<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>The world couldn't keep us apart by mandzilkos</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30104112">The world couldn't keep us apart</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandzilkos/pseuds/mandzilkos'>mandzilkos</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming colour [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Formula 1 RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(lol im dying at that tag), Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Catholic Guilt, Inaccurate Catholicism, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 23:28:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>86,559</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30104112</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandzilkos/pseuds/mandzilkos</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles just wished that things didn’t have to be so hard.</p><p>He wished he could be the nice Catholic girl that George had always wanted.</p><p>Charles had always thought, a little part of him had always thought, that maybe George really shouldn’t be loving him. Maybe he would be right to go along with the Church and reject Charles as his soulmate. Maybe Charles was just...wrong for him. </p><p>“Charles,” Pierre finally said. “You alright?”</p><p>The sound of his voice made Charles burst into tears again. </p><p>“He’s constantly fighting himself because of me,” he sobbed. “Pierre. I watched you do that for your entire life. I watched you fight yourself because of Alex. I know how it feels. How much it hurts. I’d never wish it on anyone else. But now I have to watch him do it. The love of my life.”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alexander Albon/Pierre Gasly, Charles Leclerc/George Russell</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming colour [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2213127</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Take a match, set alight to everything we ever knew</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Inspired by <a href="https://img.ifunny.co/images/a5498ed57daf10787e66ab905a69c9380f433515c52f45730651f1fb3ac65cdb_1.jpg">this au prompt</a> and modified to: AU where you can see every colour except your soulmate’s eye colour until you meet them and look into their eyes, seeing that colour for the very first time.</p><p>This fic is based on the characters from part 1 and is a continuation of the story. There has been quite a lot of character development for George and Charles already done in part 1 which may help you to understand them better in this part, so do check it out if you'd like! :) Here is also <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4NRv3664N8qybsfKFpAcVg?si=WBwWYnchRmGO-rGNgn1gZQ">a playlist</a> that I made for the series (including both parts), where I got most of my inspiration for the titles and the song in part 1. There are two non-English songs, if you want the details/lyrics let me know!</p><p>Important disclaimer: I am aware that this fic takes very extreme liberties with the Catholic religion, especially in the later chapters. I'm not Catholic, and what I’ve written is only my own interpretation of the religion for this fic and by no means actual Catholic teachings or sayings, although I’ve done my best to research different traditions and teachings. It is an AU after all, a soulmate one at that, and I wanted to explore the relationship between soulmates and religion especially when one contradicts the other. So I hope you can understand that what I’ve written here may not be the true representation of the religion, and nor am I encouraging anyone to take up or renounce the religion or form any bad opinions about it. I have tried to be as respectful as possible, but if you feel uncomfortable or offended by it please feel free to stop reading at any time, or if there has been some grave sin (pun unintended) that I’ve committed in interpreting or presenting the religion you may drop me a (polite) comment and I can learn something too. </p><p>Thank you in advance for understanding and I hope you will enjoy this one! Comments and kudos are always welcome. You can find me on tumblr at geeeooorrrge.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The lack of green in George’s life only came through the strongest in the summer, when everything was dark, contrary to what everybody else experienced.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The blue of the cloudless sky just seemed lonely and misplaced when there was only the grey of the blooming meadow and lush trees to accompany it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It only got worse the older George got, and by the time he left for university, shades of brown had faded to only a slightly reddish grey. The same shade of slightly reddish grey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It had scared George for a while, thinking he was about to go blind or something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he scoured the internet and figured out that maybe his soulmate had some sort of heterochromia, and the thought that his soulmate could have such beautiful eyes only made George smile and forget about going blind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Throughout his first year in university, alone, away from Alex and his family, George made many friends, he was in and out of parties, and got obsessed with astronomy – but it never could bury the homesickness he felt, and his favourite time every day was when he could go back to his room and talk to his best friend Alex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when summer came and he’d survived his first year, George was overjoyed to go back home and spend all his time in the meadow with Alex and his soulmate Pierre, and hang around in the backyard with his siblings, and be free of all his responsibilities for a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seeing Alex with Pierre – it always brought George a surge of hope unlike any other. He and Alex had talked countless times about meeting their soulmates. It was the only thing the two of them had ever wished for. And to see Alex this happy, after all their conversations about hope and love and despair and loneliness – George just couldn’t wait till he found his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pierre was quiet most of the time, but George could tell he was just shy and not trying to be rude, and whenever George saw him smiling up at Alex, eyes crinkling with love, he couldn’t help but feel warmth right in his heart. From what Alex had told him, George knew Pierre had been through a lot. To finally meet him, and see him now, being with Alex the way they were meant to be – it just gave George hope.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Summer was the greenest time of the year; it was the greyest time of the year for George, but that year, it didn’t matter at all, because he was so happy to be home. The grey of the meadows and forests didn’t deter him. All he did was frolic in them until it got dark outside, then he would go inside and sit with his family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His parents didn’t so much approve of Alex’s soulmate being a boy, and would occasionally say snippy things about Alex – but George had been best friends with him for longer than they could even remember, and Alex wasn’t even their child anyway, so it wasn’t like they could do anything else. George was lucky they didn’t try and stop them from hanging out, but he didn’t want to piss them off, so all he did was tune out whenever they started saying any shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So just like the other times of the year, his favourite time of the day would be talking to Alex, and listening to Alex and Pierre tell him everything they knew about the colour green that George didn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before it was time for him to go back to school, George got a spare week to visit Alex’s university, so he hitched a ride with Alex and Pierre to the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George had been to the city before, but it was different from the one he went to university in; it was bigger and busier and it swallowed George whole. George went to university in a city half the size, so it was still easy to feel at home and the buildings didn’t completely block out the sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex’s campus was sprawling and lively, even during the summer break. Alex took George around, the two of them barely fitting onto Alex’s bicycle. Alex introduced him to all his friends and his coursemates, and he brought George to so many food places around campus that George didn’t remember being hungry for even one minute, but George’s favourite part was the few afternoons they spent under a tree in the school field, fiddling with Alex’s guitar. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pierre would sit with them until pre-season football training started, then it was just Alex and George, sitting quietly while Pierre and the football team pittered around in the distance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came over to Alex and George after training with another boy in tow, who had a pair of goalkeeper gloves hanging over his shoulders accompanying the pair of boots he had that matched Pierre’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex stood up to meet Pierre with a kiss as the other boy looked on in amusement. George stood up as well, rolling his eyes although Alex still had his face buried in Pierre’s and couldn’t see him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, um…” Pierre stammered when Alex finally let him go. He gestured at the boy, now looking incredibly out of place. “George, this is Charles. Charles, George is Alex’s best friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled up at George, and – </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The grey grass George was standing on burst into a colour George had never seen before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The same colour that shone out at George from Charles’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George felt all the air escape his lungs and all his blood rush to his head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, George,” Charles said. He was looking </span>
  <em>
    <span>directly</span>
  </em>
  <span> into George’s eyes, like he was feeling the same emotion George was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” George managed to say. He cleared his throat. “Hey, Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment was just as magical as George had always imagined it would be.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he felt a sort of fear slowly eating at him from the inside. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gripped Alex’s elbow. “Alex,” he whispered, managing to tear his eyes off Charles. “Can I talk to you for a second?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex let George drag him aside. “What’s wrong?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles is my soulmate,” George told him. All the green surrounding them was beginning to overwhelm him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s great, George.” Alex burst into a smile. “Charles is great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just –” George gestured at nothing, but even then he saw his hand shake like they were in the middle of January instead of September. “He’s a boy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s parents were devout Catholics, and they’d raised George and his siblings as Catholics, and it was the only reason why George had gone to that Catholic school where he’d met Alex. Alex’s parents were different. They weren’t religious and they accepted Alex and Pierre and when Alex went to that Catholic school it was only for his education. There was no way George’s parents were going to act like Alex’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think I should go back,” George whispered. “I – Alex. You three go ahead. I’ll just – I’ll go back to your room.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just –” George tried his best not to let his anxiousness overcome him. “I don’t know if I can do this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe just get to know him first, yeah?” Alex’s voice was soft. “You don’t have to tell your parents just yet. You can see how it goes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. His palms had begun to sweat, so he wiped them on his jeans. “So...are we gonna head back, or what?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We can go out for dinner, just the four of us,” Alex said, hooking his arm in George’s as they turned and started walking back to where Pierre and Charles were standing. “I won’t tell Pierre. I’ll let Charles tell him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Alex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George, I’m so happy for you. No matter who he is. You’ve waited so long.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George couldn’t help but smile then, though every part of him was still shaking with fear and surprise and...excitement. “Yeah, I hope...yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles and Pierre were looking at the both of them with the exact same ecstatic look on their faces when they returned, so George assumed Charles had already told Pierre. The way Charles looked, so hopeful and eager to see George, made George temporarily forget everything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex and Pierre walked ahead, hand in hand, as Alex led them to wherever the next good food place on his list was. George looked around at all the green surrounding them that he could newly see; the school field seemed to stretch further into the distance, the crowns of the trees rustled protectively above them, and there were some bright bushes lining the dorm buildings. Even the main gates to the buildings had a green tint to them. George marvelled in it as much as he could, he marvelled in all the green he’d been missing out on, in things he didn’t even realise were green. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Green was – it was soft, and fresh, and royal, and hopeful, and it felt like a hug. It was everything Alex had told him in his stories; everything George had ever imagined it would be, and more.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned to Charles, and Charles was looking up at the sky, his neck craned so far back that he almost walked right into a lamppost if George hadn’t yanked him back by his shirt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered that Charles hadn’t been able to see the sky, just like how Alex hadn’t been able to before, and just the look of pure excitement on Charles’s face brought a smile to George’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled shyly back at him, and he was wearing a t-shirt of the darkest, darkest green, which brought out the liveliness of his eyes, the liveliness of the first green George had ever seen – and George thought he might be in love.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t go to uni here, do you?” Charles asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shook his head. “Four hours away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your major?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Communications,” George said. “Yours?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Art.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been doing art without being able to see the colour blue?” George asked. “You must be a great artist.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, well, I gotta go back and take a look at some of the stuff I used blue to experiment in.” Charles scratched sheepishly at the back of his neck. When he smiled, he had lovely little dimples in both his cheeks, and George </span>
  <em>
    <span>adored </span>
  </em>
  <span>it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had dinner at a round table in a little student-run Italian restaurant, and George spent the entire time picking at the side salad on his plate, looking peculiar and alien-like now that it wasn’t grey any longer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you like to do in your free time?” Charles asked him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George told him a little about his recent interest in astronomy, and bless Charles, although he obviously didn’t understand it, he listened attentively. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t want to fight it, he didn’t want to fight something he’d been waiting for his whole life, but – he wished Charles wasn’t so nice, so it would at least be easier for George to deny that he was completely smitten by this boy and there was no going back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They dropped Charles and Pierre off at their dorms first, and while Pierre and Alex took their sweet time exchanging their last words of the night – which George didn’t see the point of, because they were just going to talk on the phone again later, anyway – George and Charles stood by the side, quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So…” Charles started to say. “I’ll...will I see you again before you leave for uni?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” George managed a smile. “Yeah. That’d be cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I, um…” Charles opened his arms, like he was about to dive in for a hug.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George let him, and he seemed to melt into George, his arms curling around George’s waist and his head fitting right into George’s shoulder, like they were meant to hold each other that way, made to hold each other for the rest of their lives. Charles pushed his face further into the crook of George’s neck, and he smelled like a mixture of deodorant and eucalyptus-scented shampoo, and George – </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe George had been way too hostile to him for either of their liking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had waited all his life, after all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so happy to finally meet you,” George whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too.” George could hear the smile in Charles’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m – I’m sorry that I was a bit quiet earlier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s arms tightened around George. “It’s alright,” he murmured. “I...yeah. I get it. We should – we probably need some time to process it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pulled apart reluctantly, and when Charles looked up at George and smiled at him and his eyes turned a dark, gloomy green, George felt more complete than he had ever before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished he could love Charles without worrying about anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night, George,” Charles said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night.” George smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only until after they’d showered and George was slotted comfortably into his sleeping bag on the floor next to Alex’s bed did Alex finally speak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what did you think about Charles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s cool.” George thought about how Charles must’ve been a very passionate person, given he was into both art and sports, subjects that both demanded the highest level of skill and dedication. “And very handsome.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who would’ve thought that your soulmate would be my soulmate’s best friend?” Alex chuckled. “You were looking for him, and he was right here all along.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s funny how things work out, huh?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite everything else, George really thought so, too.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For all the stories Charles had ever heard about the colour blue, he had never in his life expected it to be this beautiful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s eyes not only lit up everything blue around Charles for the first time, it also enlivened the rest of Charles’s world. Maybe things around him just got brighter because Charles could see the sky now, and he could see the colour of his laptop and the row of blue paint in the art studio. But Charles liked to think it was only because George had appeared in his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did have to leave to go back to school in two days, though, so Charles thought maybe they could see each other one last time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They went into the city the next day, just the two of them, to the pierside summer carnival. George looked nice when he met Charles at the door of his building, in a white, short-sleeved button-up shirt with tiny blue anchors printed all over it. His hair was styled up a bit messily, and he looked young and bright and vibrant.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a wonderful, cloudless day, and Charles couldn’t keep his eyes off the sky. He kept almost walking into things, and George had to pull him back each time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this a ploy to make me hold your hand?” he asked Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe,” Charles teased back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When George smiled, it was like fireworks were going off in the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s eyes were...they were a lighter blue than the sky, and almost transparent, but they held so much more than any other sort of blue that Charles had seen. So many more stories. More of Charles’s hopes and dreams than anything else could ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did end up holding Charles’s hand, though his grasp was loose and hesitant, like he thought it was something he shouldn’t have been doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The carnival booths had green roofs, which seemed to delight George to no end. It was Charles’s turn to hold him back from walking into things and people as he inadvertently drifted towards the stalls lining the boulevard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sea below them was – it was open, and peaceful, and welcoming, now that Charles could see it. The mountains in the distance were tinted a slight blue, merging the sea and the sky, and as Charles stood by the wooden harbour railings with George, looking out at the palette of blues that greeted him, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of serenity, like the two of them were alone on that bustling harbour. Charles had half the mind to thank George for letting him see all of this, but when he turned to George and George was just gazing at him with a shine in his eyes, Charles knew it wasn’t necessary.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had lobster rolls for lunch, then strolled along the harbour, stopping at all the game booths. They didn’t win anything except for a little blue shark soft toy that George insisted Charles keep. He seemed quiet, contrary to what Pierre had told Charles about George not being able to shut up, but Charles attributed it to them not really knowing each other well yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t argue against the thousand photos Charles made the both of them take, and Charles was delighted that even though they had to be apart, he had all these photos to look at and remember George by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When evening fell, everything was lit up in pretty golden lights, and the red, yellow, and green lights of the carousel pulled them in most strongly. George made it on a taller unicorn and Charles on a little horse, and when Charles looked over at him, perched on his white horse, his eager face flashing gloriously in gold – he felt a strange sense of completeness and fulfilment that he had never felt before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their next stop was the ferris wheel; it wasn’t all that high, but the red, green, and blue lights on its spokes were what sucked George and Charles in. As they climbed slowly to the top, the sheer wideness of the sea below them became apparent, and Charles lost himself in the way the lights reflected in the dark blue, the same way George seemed to bury himself in the rectangles of green rooftops below them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know you have heterochromia?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles peeled his eyes off the gloomy evening sky and sea to see George watching him. “What’s that?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your eyes have different colours. It’s called complete heterochromia when someone has two different coloured eyes. But you have central heterochromia. Your eyes are green but the middle of them are brown.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So you couldn’t see brown, too?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It got harder as I got older, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled at him. George had been quieter than Charles had expected him to be, but he made Charles feel so comfortable, and when he smiled it felt like Charles was being hugged. He was moving closer to Charles, not just on the seat but his face as well, his eyes trapping Charles, like he was just trying to savour the green and brown he could now see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have really pretty eyes,” George whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, too,” Charles whispered back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes, and a mere second later George’s lips were pressed on his, soft and sweet and scared. They stayed for a short moment, then George was pulling away, sliding to the furthest end of the seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles opened his eyes. George refused to look at him again, instead staring right ahead at the carriage in front of theirs as they descended. His hands grabbed the bar so hard his knuckles were white, and he looked anxious, his eyes glistening now not only in the light but also with nervous tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wind had made George’s hair all messy as they stepped off the wheel, and it took every last ounce of strength in Charles’s body to stop himself from reaching over and running his fingers through it. He wanted to take George’s hand again, but George put them in his jean pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked quietly down the entire length of the harbour, and Charles didn’t say a word at first, afraid that it would open the opportunity for George to say that they should head home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But George had become quieter, more distant, and he didn’t look at Charles again, and Charles – </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had only known it for two days, but he missed the blue in George’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know this doesn’t mean we have to love each other,” Charles said. “But it doesn’t seem like you like me very much. Will you tell me why?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed. He seemed to avoid answering Charles for a while, instead just walking quietly until they found an ice cream stand at the entrance to the pier, at which point he finally said, “Let’s get some ice cream and sit somewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles obliged, getting himself a lime sorbet in a cup while George settled with a mint chocolate chip cone. They walked further down the pier until they found an empty bench overlooking the water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George seemed nervous as he chewed on his scoop of ice cream, his eyes darting around the view in front of them. Charles dipped his spoon hesitantly into his sorbet, afraid of what was to come.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was raised a Catholic,” George eventually said. “My parents are – they’re very, very conservative. They’re not going to be happy about this at all. They’re not going to...to allow it. I’ve always been taught that...you know, that it’s only natural for me to be with a nice Catholic girl, to get married to her and start a little family, and – nothing else, you know? That’s all I’ve been taught. That’s all I’ve ever thought it would be. I didn’t think it would be...you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Charles said. “I’m sorry that it’s...me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just strange, you know?” George whispered. “I’ve waited for you all my life, Charles. Just ask Alex. I would sit in the fields with him and he would tell me stories about the colour green and it would just give me hope. Green has always been my favourite colour. Even though I couldn’t see it. And it still is my favourite colour.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. “I’ve always been waiting to meet you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was quiet again, and he had stopped munching on what was left of his cone with such earnestness, instead holding the waffle in his lap, like he had lost his appetite. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think this is wrong,” George finally spoke. “I think we’re – I think it’s not right. But that’s on me. It’s on me. It has nothing to do with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles felt his heart fall to the ground. “I’m –” He struggled to find the words. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shook his head. “I think you’re great,” he whispered. “I really, really think you’re great. And I really like you. I...uh, I...I just need some time to come to terms with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to like me,” Charles said softly. “You know? You don’t have to love me if you think it’s wrong.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But I do.” George’s voice was on the verge of breaking. “I...I feel something for you. And I want it to be more. I know I shouldn’t, and I can’t, but I – I want it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want you to love me if it causes you pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles, I –” George’s words caught in his throat. “I’ll figure this out. Okay? I promise you I will. But right now, I...I just want you to know that it’s not your fault, and I really, really like you, and I don’t want to lose you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nodded. “And you’ll – you’ll talk me through it. Yeah? You’ll tell me what you’re going through, and I’ll be here for you all the way. Okay? I promise. I’ve been waiting so long for you. So long. I’m not going to let you fight by yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” George closed his eyes, and he hung his head, and Charles thought he might have started to cry. “Charles. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, hey.” Charles bundled him up in a hug, waffle cone and all. “Hey. It’s okay. C’mon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George cried quietly into Charles’s shoulder for a while, even though Charles could tell he was trying his hardest not to let it be audible. And Charles. Charles might have waited nineteen years to meet the person who would show him the rest of the world, but if it hurt him this way, then – Charles would rather give everything up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go back, okay?” Charles whispered after George’s shoulders had stopped shaking. “We’ll get some sleep. You have an early train to catch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. He let Charles take him by the hand as they wandered the city to find the bus stop; the dark streets were so blue-tinted under the streetlights, and Charles had known that they weren’t as warm and orange as the nights back at home, but he’d never known that they were this hostile, and that he had been missing out on so much blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But George was warm by his side, and they caught the last bus to campus and were standing outside Alex’s building when George turned to Charles and asked, “Do you mind if I...if I grab my stuff from Alex and – uh, and I’ll hang out in your room tonight instead?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Charles smiled. “I’ll wait for you here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George came back down a few minutes later with his sleeping bag and his backpack, and they made the short five-minute walk back to Charles’s dorm. They took their showers silently in neighbouring stalls, and Charles watched George do his night prayers, signing the Cross before and after, before he settled in his sleeping bag on the floor by Charles’s bed. His face was lit up by a rectangle of light from his phone, which he pressed to his ear a few moments later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, ma,” he said softly. “Yeah, I’m catching the 9:30 train tomorrow. I’m with – I’m with Alex, yeah.” He hugged the top layer of his sleeping bag closer to himself. “Yeah. Good night, ma. Love you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t seem to notice Charles watching him. He put his phone aside and curled up on himself, squeezing his eyes shut as his shoulders shuddered with a sudden sob. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles just wished with all his might that he could take all of George’s pain away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George,” Charles whispered. He got his laptop from his table. “Hey. You like the stars, right? You wanna tell me all about them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George turned around, wiping his tears off his cheeks. He left his sleeping bag on the ground and climbed into Charles’s bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spent the rest of the night sitting together in Charles’s bed, leaning against the wall with the laptop on their legs, talking about all the stars in the sky – and Charles finally understood what Pierre had meant when he’d said that once George started talking, he never showed any signs of stopping.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The journey to the train station at nine am the next morning seemed shorter than Charles remembered it being.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The four of them shared a taxi there, and George spent the entire journey staring nostalgically out the window. When Charles took his hand, he smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Charles realised it, they were there on the platform, the station having emptied out after the departure of the peak hour intercity train. Alex and Pierre were quiet as they stood in a circle, and Charles hadn’t told Pierre yet about what had happened with George, but he assumed that Alex had probably filled him in a little. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I talk to you for a bit?” George asked Charles, softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles walked with him towards the end of the platform. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had a really good time,” George told him. “Thank you for taking me around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. “Yeah. Maybe...maybe I can visit you, next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’ll be nice. I’ll take you around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The wind rustled the stray leaves on the platform, and ruffled George’s hair again, like the gentle fingers of a lover. Like how Charles wished he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve always thought of you as the person who’ll show me the rest of the world,” Charles said. “I think about all the things I could see, all the places we’d go, all the time. And now you’re here, and – it still feels like a dream. I still hope you’ll see the rest of the world with me. But I know – I understand if you can’t. I just, um…” Charles paused to compose himself. “Yeah. I’m just so, so happy to finally meet you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles.” George’s voice was soft like velvet and it filled Charles’s heart like it was an empty room. He stopped near the end of the platform and turned to Charles, taking both his hands. “You are the only reason I had so much hope for the future, so much faith. You’re the only reason I never resented not being able to see green, or brown. You’re everything I’ve ever hoped for, but you’re – you’re also everything I’ve been taught not to believe in. And I –” George swallowed loudly, and hung his head like he simply couldn’t look at Charles any longer. “I’m so sorry it has to be this way. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles pulled him into a hug, and he didn’t resist. He never seemed to. He just seemed to dissolve in Charles’s arms, like he was so near and so far at the same time, and he let Charles cradle him and pat him on the back and kiss him above his ear, and it was honestly everything Charles had ever wished for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to be sad about this,” Charles mumbled. “All my life I’ve been thinking about you. Thinking about loving you. And I will. Love you. I don’t want to be sad about this and I hope you – that you aren’t, as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not upset that it’s you,” George whispered. “Okay? I want you to remember that. Please. I’m not upset that it’s you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll remember that,” Charles promised.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll call you, yeah? I’ll call you anytime I can.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nodded. He wanted nothing more than to leave everything behind and hop on that train with George so he could hold George through all of this. Nothing more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George pulled away from the hug and cupped Charles’s cheeks, slowly leaning forward until his lips were on Charles’s again; and this time, they stayed, and they were hesitant but they were loving and they spoke to Charles the way words couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They pulled apart when George’s tears landed on Charles’s upper lip, and George desperately swiped them away, only relenting when Charles helped him with his thumbs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled at him, and Charles wanted to live in his ocean eyes forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go say bye to Alex and Pierre,” George said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nodded. He trailed behind George as they walked to where Alex and Pierre were at, and watched as George thanked them and gave each of them hugs. George picked up his backpack and sleeping bag when the train pulled into the station, and Charles wasn’t sure what the feeling in his chest was, but it was tugging and pushing at his heart, wanting him to go with George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George,” Charles said before George could disappear inside the train. He handed George a piece of drawing paper, rolled up and tied with a brown string. “I made this for you the first night we met. I hope you’ll like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled. He took the piece of paper and hugged it close to himself, then leaned across the platform gap and kissed Charles on the head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three of them followed him down the length of the train as he looked for his seat, and he looked tired as he found it and sat down, though he still flashed them a smile through the window, and waved as the train pulled away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles just felt so...empty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had only known George for two days, but meeting him and leaving him was a thousand times worse than never having met him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is everything okay?” Alex asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not ready to talk about it yet,” Charles whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were quiet for a moment, then Pierre and Alex were hooking their arms into Charles’s and dragging him out of the station in silent agreement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They found a nice café and sat there for three hours eating brunch, and though Charles didn't say a word and kept his head buried in his tea, he was suitably entertained by Pierre and Alex talking about weird science stuff from across him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And it was the first time Charles had actually been able to see the blue in Pierre’s eyes, and he had never seen Pierre put his entire body into a laugh like he was now capable of doing, so at least he had that to hold on to.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The piece of paper Charles gave George was a painting done with only green and blue paints. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was of two figures, one blue and one green, sitting on a hillside, looking out at the night sky with a blanket of light blue and green stars. Their silhouettes blended in the middle to make teal. George had thought the hill and sky were black, but upon closer inspection, they were just a mixture of really, really dark green and blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was amazing how beautifully Charles could paint even though at that point he had only been able to see blue for a few hours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George had opened the painting on the train, but was so afraid that his tears would stain it that he bought a photo frame on his way back to uni and placed the painting on his writing desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he called his parents to tell them he was safely back in his room, he avoided telling them about Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he went for Sunday Mass at the local church, he sat in the pew after the church had emptied, too afraid to tell God he was in love with a boy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every night before he fell asleep, he would pray and wish that he could be brave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But George had never felt further away from God than he did at that point of his life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s favourite part on campus began to be the little garden that he had to walk through on the way to his dorm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the day, when he was heading to class, he would be surrounded by a warm green hug, from the little flower bushes at his feet to the taller trees in the center of the garden. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At night, when he was heading back after dinner, he would look up and see a few stars watching him from above.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, George sat in that garden and talked to Charles on the phone, and it would feel like Charles was right beside him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The full moon’s out tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George stopped by the lone wooden bench near the center of the garden. It was nearing the end of summer, so the temperatures were tapering in the night, and George pulled the sleeves of his hoodie over his hands as he leaned his head on the back of the bench. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can see it from here, too,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you outside?” There was a smile in Charles’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” George’s voice seemed too loud in the quiet garden. “It’s nice outside today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get too cold.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, the silences they fell into, just like that night, were George’s favourite part of their phone conversations. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and listened to Charles breathe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He longed to hear that in person; he longed for it to be the last sound he heard before he fell asleep and the first when he woke up, sleepy and heavy and evidence that George had found the one person made for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I miss you,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too.” Charles sounded solemn and subdued and everything George could feel in his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It got too cold to stay outside in his flimsy pyjama pants after a while, so George went back to his room. The lava lamp on his bedside table was an electric sort of green, similar to the colour of fresh vegetables he occasionally saw on his plate. The room was bathed in it, and listening to Charles as George lay in his bed in its glow just felt...surreal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you know I have a green lava lamp?” he asked Charles. “I got it when Alex got himself a blue one and he was sad that he couldn't see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” The smile in Charles’s voice had returned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. It’s next to my bed.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it look nicer now that you can see it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” George sighed as he lay back on his pillow. “Not as nice as your eyes.“</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles giggled. “Don’t be gross.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George just couldn't wait to see him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles,” he whispered. “I’m just gonna – I’m gonna pray for a bit. But – stay here, okay? Stay here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George got on his knees next to his bed; he usually prayed after he got off the phone with Charles, so having his phone next to him on the bed with Charles’s name on the screen as he sought advice from the one being that wouldn’t grant their relationship – it felt strangely defiant, yet…strangely intimate. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Heavenly Father, I thank You for the day You have given me. I am blessed to have a school to learn in, I am blessed to have a roof over my head and a bed to sleep in. I am thankful for everybody who loves me and cares for me.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Lord, I am sorry for all my sins. Please grant me the diligence to understand what You have given me, and the wisdom to know what to let go. Even as I struggle, I am blessed by the faith I have in You, and I trust that You will show me the way. May Your love and grace bless my dad, ma, Benjy, and Cara, and Alex, Pierre, Charles, and everybody else I love. Amen.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The room seemed quieter than usual after George finished his prayer with the Sign of the Cross. Charles’s name was still on the screen of George’s phone, above the timer counting up the length of their call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn’t speak even when George pressed his phone to his ear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George listened for a while, to the sounds he did and didn’t make.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for putting me in your prayer,” he eventually said, softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another short silence, then, “What’s your favourite planet?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It changes all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it today?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neptune.” George settled on his pillow again. “Because it rains diamonds on Neptune.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George fell asleep in the warmth of his lava lamp and Charles’s voice in his ear, and in that split second before he drifted off, he felt a sort of peace in his heart that he knew he would never be able to describe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charles’s birthday fell on a Friday that year, and on Thursday after training the team brought him out for a nice big dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pierre had opened up a lot more since he’d gotten together with Alex, and he had a better rapport with the rest of their teammates, but he still stuck closely by Charles throughout the night. He sat with Charles at the long table they booked at the fancy burger bar and he tried to include Charles in every conversation. Charles only found enough energy to plow through the night because of Pierre. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the night ended, Pierre helped Charles carry all his presents and the big balloon they'd gotten him back to their dorm. It was near midnight by the time they turned the corner and pushed open the gate to their building.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not usually this quiet,” Pierre said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles swallowed. “I just, um…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You miss George?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles sighed. He nodded. “Yeah, I...yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pierre stopped Charles with a tug on his wrist, then wrapped him in a warm hug. “Charles,” he whispered. “You always told me everything was going to be okay. And it is. It’s going to be okay. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles felt himself sink into Pierre’s grasp, and he just. He just needed someone to hold him. He needed someone to hold on to, and he hadn’t told Pierre anything more than </span>
  <em>
    <span>‘he’s Catholic and he doesn’t feel fully comfortable with this relationship’ </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he knew Pierre would always, always understand more than Charles said aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They made it up to Charles's room, and Pierre pushed the door open, and – </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sat on Charles's bed, holding a small cake with a single candle that lit up his smiling face like an angel’s halo, was George. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George,” Charles whispered, feeling tears prick violently at the back of his eyes as he was overwhelmed with a sudden wave of happiness. He dropped everything and ran the rest of the distance as George carefully set the cake down on the bed and stood up to catch him. Charles pressed his face into George’s shoulder, and he smelled so familiar that Charles started to cry. “George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, love,” George breathed into Charles’s hair. “Hey. No crying.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, I'm gonna go,” Pierre said softly. “Happy birthday, Charles. I'll put your presents here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did he help you with this?” Charles asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. He picked up the cake again and held it towards Charles. “Make a wish and blow it out,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you sing for me?” Charles gave his best puppy eyes. “Please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George relented with a cheeky roll of the eyes. His voice was soft as he sang, and he peered at Charles with a smile hanging on his lips, and Charles started to cry again with all the love in his heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and wished that he and George would always be okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was a little greedy, so he also wished that George would allow himself to love Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George's touch was soft as he wiped Charles’s tears, and Charles knew everything was going to be alright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The cake was vanilla and lemon cream flavoured, and Charles didn’t remember telling George his favourite type of cake but George </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he knew, and they shared the cake with a single fork and Charles had never felt so complete in his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got you something.” George pulled out a black velvet pouch from his pocket and handed it to Charles. “I hope you like it. Happy birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside the bag was a mesh bracelet with a single round blue glass charm. Under the dim light, it was a dark blue, darker than George’s eyes and darker than the morning sky; it was the colour of the sea next to the harbour at the summer carnival. It was the colour of the evening sky, when the sun was halfway below the horizon. The first colour of night. When Charles moved it under his bedside light, it turned bright, and it was exactly the same colour as George’s eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have one, too.” George reached into his pocket and pulled out another bracelet, identical save for a green glass charm instead of blue. The same green that Charles knew was the colour of his eyes. “It reminds me of you. I mean, it’s okay if you don’t want to wear it. I just, uh...I thought you’d like it. You know, since...since we can’t be together. In the same place.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles placed the blue bracelet in George’s palm. “Put it on for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was the smallest smile on George’s face as he clasped the bracelet around Charles’s wrist, then let Charles do the same for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you like it?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love it.” Charles moved closer to George and placed their wrists together. The blue and green charms shimmered in unison. “They’re beautiful. I’m gonna be reminded of you whenever I look at mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled, and his eyes were blue but they were like fire, and his eyelashes were thick and long and cast dark shadows over his face, and Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can I kiss you?” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded, and the last thing Charles remembered before their lips met was the feeling of George’s lashes on his cheeks as George’s eyes fluttered shut. His lips were soft and wet and they tasted like George had been drinking iced tea all afternoon. His hand was slightly cold as it slid up the side of Charles’s neck to firmly cup his jaw, making Charles shiver and grab the side of George’s shirt to pull closer, deepening the kiss.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday, Charles,” George breathed heavily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” Charles mumbled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t seem to matter, because moments later they were struggling, limbs clashing in an attempt to get closer to each other than it was physically possible. George obliged when Charles leaned back until he was horizontal, his weight comfortable on Charles as he nudged a thigh between Charles’s legs. His hand searched violently in Charles’s hair, tugging and pushing, and he gobbled up all of Charles’s gasps and sighs eagerly. He shuddered when Charles slipped a hand underneath his shirt, his body keening against Charles’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Charles could react, George had pushed off him and was at the far end of the room in a flash, facing away from Charles, his head almost in the wall. He pushed his face into his hands as his shoulders started to shake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” he muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have – I shouldn’t. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry. I can’t.” George’s hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides as he paced the room a few times and eventually stopped at the window. “Sorry, I –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Charles whispered. He swallowed everything he was feeling, afraid it would bubble out. “Hey. It’s okay. I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George turned around, and for the first time that night, Charles noticed how tired he looked. Heavy circles decorated his eyes, and his face was sullen, like he hadn’t been sleeping well. He slowly walked over to Charles and sat down beside him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles, I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to say anything,” Charles said. “Don’t say anything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George pressed his lips together like he was trying not to cry. Charles pulled him into a hug, feeling that same familiar relief when George folded comfortably into him without resistance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s your favourite number?” he whispered into George’s ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sixteen.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s birthdate. It brought a smile to Charles’s lips. “Okay. We’ll count to sixteen. Yeah? After we’re done, you’ll feel better. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. He listened to Charles count to sixteen, and by the time Charles was done, he had stopped shaking and was nuzzling softly into Charles’s neck. Charles scooted further into his bed so he could lean on the wall and George could rest his head in Charles’s lap, lying upside down on Charles’s bed. His feet were tucked politely into the gap between Charles’s pillow and the wall, next to the blue shark they’d gotten at the carnival, and the sight of it made Charles smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you skip lessons to be here?” he asked George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just one. I have one tomorrow I can do on my laptop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And will you stay the weekend?” Charles felt his smile grow when George nodded. He just. He just wanted to spend every minute he could with George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell me about your day.” George returned Charles’s smile, looking angelic as he peered up at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was just – George was just so beautiful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles told him about training, and he told him about how the team had replaced his deodorant with whipped cream to prank him, and he told him about all the presents and the burger he had for dinner and how they’d bought him a cake of a flavour he didn’t really like. He told George about Pierre and all the times they had been there for each other and he told George how happy he was that they had both found their soulmates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George only got sleepier and sleepier, and he looked more and more peaceful, and the sight of it squeezed Charles’s heart like it was being held in a warm, caring fist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday,” George murmured again before he fell asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. When he took George’s hand and intertwined his fingers but got no response from George, he knew George was fully asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Charles whispered. “I know I can’t. I’m not supposed to. But I do. Very, very much. And no God is going to stop me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed in his sleep as he pushed his cheek into Charles’s thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His hair was so soft under Charles’s fingertips that Charles almost felt like he was wandering in a field of wildflowers in heaven.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He held George’s head in his hands for the rest of the night, and it was truly the best birthday of his life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was Charles’s birthday after all, so George spent the entire day doing whatever Charles wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it turned out, Charles wanted nothing more than just to sit with George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So George let him sit in on his online lecture, then he sat watching Charles as Charles painted at his work table. They barely spoke to each other, but the room was calm and peaceful and complete the way it was, and George loved how comfortable they could be around each other without saying anything at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On Saturday, George lured Alex out to sit on the bleachers and watch the football team practice, and it turned out to be three hours worth of teasing by Alex about the permanent smile on George’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t help it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Being around Charles just placed a feeling in George’s heart that nothing else could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex dipped for a while to do some food deliveries, then returned with dinner for the two of them and Pierre and Charles. While the other two decided to go back to Alex’s room, George and Charles sat in the grass in the middle of the school field, lit up by a single floodlight in the corner, and ate their burritos. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At nine pm, the light went out, so they got on their backs and counted the stars they could see. George told Charles all about the brightest blue star Sirius and Charles told him he’d always seen that star but never known it was blue. He told Charles about Venus and all its gases and Charles didn’t miss a word. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>”Next time, when I miss you, I’ll come here and look at the stars,” he told George. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t dare to stop talking; he didn’t stop talking, because stopping meant that the night would end, and soon the weekend would end, and George didn’t know when he would get to see Charles again. He just wanted to lie there forever, looking at the night sky with his Charles, and dreaming about being far, far away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That weekend, George was able to forget everything; he was able to drop everything that he’d been worried about, everything that had been haunting him, and he focused only on his love for Charles – and it truly was the most freeing thing in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When finals neared, George started to plan his Christmas holidays with his family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t discussed it with Charles, but he thought it was time to tell his family about them and maybe, if Charles wanted, take Charles home to meet them over Christmas. He was sure Charles wouldn’t mind it. After all, it was George holding things up on his end. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma.” George finally found enough courage to ask on one of their phone calls. “Is it okay if I want to bring someone with me on Christmas?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure,” she said. “Who is it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George closed his eyes. His heart was beating out of his chest and he began to think it was a bad idea, and he chickened out at the very last second.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a friend,” he blurted. “His, uh...his name is Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” His mum sounded happy about it. “We have an extra place on the table for him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, ma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does he like to eat?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He likes Italian food,” George told her. “He’s been to all the Italian food places where he studies. And he’s a big meat lover. He inhales steak like I’ve never seen before. He just – ma, I’m sure he’ll love whatever you cook.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” ma said. “You sound happy, George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was just – he was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>scared</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His phone almost slipped out of his grasp from how sweaty his palm was. He took a deep breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said softly. “Charles...Charles is a really good friend.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s really nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t know what to say then. He just sat there as the room began to spin around him, and he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and his chest clenched tightly but not the way it did whenever he saw Charles. His chest clenched in absolute fear of letting his parents down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He called Charles after hanging up, and he didn’t say a single word for fear of starting to cry, but Charles understood. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles understood, and he put his phone next to him on speaker so George could hear the scratch of his paintbrush on paper, and George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George just felt this deep, deep happiness, a sort of joy that ate at his heart from the very bottom until it threatened to spill over and drown all the despair that lined George’s soul.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t speak to each other throughout the call, and George spent the rest of it thinking about how he’d spent nineteen years waiting for his soulmate only to end up ruining his soulmate’s life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charles’s family didn’t celebrate Christmas, so it was easy for him to convince his parents to let him spend it at George’s before going home for the New Year. His finals ended a few days earlier than George’s, so he made the trip to where George studied and stayed over a few days before they headed over to George’s home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s university was only about half the size of where Charles studied, but it was more modern and specialised in communications and media, and they had a small digital art department, too, which piqued Charles’s interest. George let Charles stay in his room for a couple of days, and the way Charles hovered carefully around George so he wouldn’t disturb George from studying for his finals was </span>
  <em>
    <span>adorable</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and it just made George so fucking happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George got to fall asleep and wake up to him those few days, and it was honestly everything that he would ever ask for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you want me to go home with you?” Charles asked as he watched George pack the gifts for his family into a backpack the morning they were supposed to go to the train station. “I can still go back. I can get another train ticket.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want you to come. They’re gonna have to meet you someday, you know? It might as well be now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We don’t have to tell them, yeah?” Charles asked. “We’ll see. We don’t have to tell them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I – I kinda want to tell them. Maybe – maybe it’ll help me accept it better. Accept...myself. You know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Charles smiled, like he was delighted George was trying his hardest to accept who he was. “I just don’t wanna ruin your Christmas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to. I won’t let you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They took a bus into the city, and the shops were only just opening that morning but when Charles saw the tea shop he immediately dragged George inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of tea do your parents like?” he asked George. “I’ll get them some tea. You know, in exchange for dinner. Maybe it’ll make them like me more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George watched him wander the store, sniffing at tea leaves and pushing them into George’s face to make George sniff them. Charles was just. He was so adorable and lively and it always, always made George’s heart drop when he remembered what he was putting Charles through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood outside the store as Charles checked that he had everything he’d picked out. He looked so eager and excited and it just made George want to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles,” he whispered, tugging at Charles’s arm to get his attention. “I just, um...I want you to know that no matter what happens, I’ll always feel the same way about you. Okay? I’ll always feel the same way about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled up at him, his eyes reflecting in the morning light. He looked like an angel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, love,” he said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George gently pressed his lips on Charles’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what he’d done to ever deserve Charles. He was loving, forgiving, and understanding. He was perfect. God made him perfect and God made him George’s.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two and a half hour train ride to George’s hometown was strangely both the longest and the shortest train ride George had ever sat through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles spent the entire journey with his face pressed up against the window like a little child. He looked fascinated as the tall buildings of the city gave way to more and more sky, and the smile on his face got bigger and bigger, bursting into giggles when George couldn’t resist but kiss his dimples.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s parents were waiting at the door for them, and ma looked ecstatic to see George. George was the youngest child, and it’d been hard for her when he’d left for university. He gave his parents hugs, then introduced them to Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, hi.” Charles was uncharacteristically subdued. He held out the bag of tea. “Mr and Mrs Russell. I brought some tea for you. Merry Christmas.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It made George laugh. He brought Charles inside as his parents cooed over the tea, and introduced him to Benjy and Cara, who were sitting in the backyard. Then he brought Charles upstairs to his room, where they sat quietly on his bed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can sleep here for the next few nights,” George said. “I’ll take the couch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I’ll take the couch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take the couch. You’re the guest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lightest smile appeared on Charles’s face, and he scooted further into the bed and settled on his back, his head buried in George’s pillows. He turned his cheek and took a deep breath of one of them, blushing when he caught George watching him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was still bright outside, and the light coming in through the translucent drapes bounced off Charles’s eyes and lit up the room in its green. Charles just. He just looked so small and so beautiful, lying there in front of George, surrounded by white sheets and white pillows. He gazed up at George like George was the most incredible thing he’d ever seen. His hand found George’s, but only grasped it hesitantly, like he was afraid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, George just got lost in it; he got lost in all his emotions, in all the feelings he had for Charles, he got lost so deep in them that it physically hurt him when he realised it and reeled himself back from it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That day, it felt like a stab to George’s heart as he forced himself to let go of Charles’s hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles followed quietly behind George as he went back downstairs with all the presents and put them with the others below the tree. He sat with George and his parents as they talked about how they’d been in touch with the rest of their extended family. He went with George into the backyard after sunset, where they could hold hands in the darkness, drinking hot chocolate and sharing a big blanket.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When everyone was asleep, George snuck out of the couch and upstairs to sleep in his bed with Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way Charles welcomed him, with open arms and already resting on only one side of the bed like he’d saved a space for George, made George’s heart burst in unbridled joy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll go back downstairs before they wake up,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He fell asleep in Charles’s arms that night, and for those few hours, in the familiarity of his home and the warmth of Charles – George believed that maybe, everything would be alright.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Christmas dinner was a quiet affair, just the six of them. George’s mum cooked up a feast, and Charles seemed to enjoy the fact that she was constantly scooping food onto his plate and asking him if he liked everything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles joined them for the Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, though he looked confused and awkward and plastered himself by George’s side throughout the night. George spent the entire time wishing he could hold Charles’s hand, wishing he could hug Charles close to him, but the holy presence in the church they stood in froze him in fear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they said a prayer together at midnight, George snuck in a wish for Charles to always, always be happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite the late night, everyone got up early on Christmas morning to open their presents, giving George barely enough time to sneak back downstairs and pretend to be asleep on the couch. His parents had gotten Charles his own presents, a bright yellow jumper and some socks for the winter, and the way Charles grinned as he hugged his gifts to himself and thanked them made George want to kiss his dimples again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The days blended together, and though they mostly gathered in the living room to watch TV or play board games, George felt so, so happy to be home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You two never told us how you met,” George’s dad asked one evening while Benjy and Cara wreaked havoc in the kitchen trying to make dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles is a friend of a friend.” There was a voice at the back of George’s mind telling him not to tell his parents that Charles knew Alex. “One of my coursemates’. Charles plays football and I met him when he came over for a football game.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What position do you play?” dad asked. George just knew he’d catch on to that, and Charles looked happy to talk to him about football, and he was hugging a sofa cushion tightly to himself, and – </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was just so, so in love with him that he was suddenly fearless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It must be hard to major in art without seeing all the colours,” George heard ma point out when he snapped back into reality. “I mean, I’d imagine it would be hard for George without green.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles turned to George, and George could’ve sworn he saw Charles’s pupils dilate when his eyes met George’s. He looked kind and soft and George wished he could give him the entire world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Charles said softly, his gaze resting like a warm hand on George’s face.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George tore his eyes off Charles and turned to his parents. “Dad,” he said. “Ma. I – I can see green now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt Charles fidget next to him, but.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was way too late for any regrets. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You found your soulmate?” Ma sounded so excited, and it broke George’s heart to have to disappoint her. “Why didn’t you bring her over for dinner? What’s her name?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George felt fear creeping back into his mind, and he had to turn his gaze to the mug of hot chocolate in his hands. The room was eerily silent for a long, long time, and a sudden overwhelming guilt made George wonder if he should’ve said anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he knew this was part of his happiness, and he knew his parents loved him – he only hoped they loved him enough to let him chase it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George?” Ma’s voice was soft and kind and compelling and George gave in right away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He put his mug on the table and reached for Charles’s hand, letting their fingers intertwine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His name is Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His parents were silent for a long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A long, long time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George,” his dad finally said. He didn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> at Charles, like Charles suddenly didn’t exist. “We’ll talk about this another day, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, I…” Charles pulled his hand out of George’s and stood up nervously. “Uh, I’ll go help Benjy and Cara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George watched him disappear into the kitchen, turning around one last time to give George a timid glance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure that it’s him?” dad asked, barely even waiting for Charles to get out of earshot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure.” Of course George was sure. “It’s Charles, and I’ve finally found him, and I love him very much.” George had never felt so brave as he did saying those words aloud.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It can’t be right. It’s some sort of mistake.” Ma’s voice was only a whisper, but George heard all the pain and confusion in it. “This can’t be right, George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can’t see him anymore,” dad said. His voice was low, just like it used to be whenever he was mad at George or his siblings, and it still instilled that same fear in George’s heart. “He’s in a different school, so it shouldn’t be hard. You have to get over this, George. It’s not something you should be proud of. You have to go to church and pray for forgiveness every night and you have to wake up from this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George wondered how they had come to this negative conclusion this quickly. “No,” he said. “It’s Charles, Charles is my soulmate, I saw green in his eyes for the very first time. I thought it was wrong, just like you, but he was given to me and there must be a reason behind that. And I’m not going to abandon him because I’m meant to be with him and I’m sorry that you think otherwise but I feel like this is a decision I have to make myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad and ma said nothing. They just stared at George from across the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to fight with you, dad, ma,” George whispered. “That’s not what I was looking for when I decided to tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think your friend Charles can stay with us tonight,” dad said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George wished he could punch something. He imagined himself punching the wall behind his parents’ heads.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stood up and went to the kitchen, and he found Charles helping Benjy to chop some carrots. He took Charles’s hand and brought him upstairs, and he took all of Charles’s things and packed them into his duffel bag.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happened?” Charles asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m taking you to Alex’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George, love. Don’t fight with your parents because of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shook his head, determined not to let his tears fall. “I don’t care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George.” Charles took George’s hands and turned George to face him. “Hey. Hey, look at me. I’m gonna count to sixteen for you, and then you’re gonna tell me how you feel. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George wondered how Charles could still be so soft and patient despite the entire world crashing down around them. He listened to Charles count to sixteen, and even though he was slightly calmer afterwards, he started to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Talk to me,” Charles whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just feel so stupid for thinking that they wouldn’t be angry about this,” George sobbed. “I trusted them and I was wrong. I thought they would be happy that I brought my soulmate to meet them. I know they’ve been religious all their lives but I thought they would try to see that </span>
  <em>
    <span>this</span>
  </em>
  <span> is also God-given. You’re God-given. They don’t see that and I feel so, so stupid, and I’m so sorry that I thought it would be a good idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Charles ran his hand through George’s hair, pushing it back on his head. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m gonna take you to Alex’s, is that okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nodded. He packed up the rest of his things and hoisted his bag over his shoulder, and when George led him downstairs he was still too furious to look at his parents, though he made sure that they saw him holding Charles’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Charles said as they started walking down the street. “I...is it okay if we hang out for a bit? Just the two of us. Before I go to Alex’s.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George brought him to the endless green meadow behind Alex’s house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had never been able to see it before, and with all the festivities they’d been occupied with over Christmas, he hadn’t had the chance to take Charles there. The sight of it brought tears back to George’s eyes. He was brought back to the days he spent with Alex, when they were both missing a colour in their lives, facing the sea on George’s bad days and facing the greenlands on Alex’s bad days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d sat here for years and years, listening to the stories told by the whispering grass, like they were secrets George had to be older to know.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now he knew them, and he loved them more than he had ever loved anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles stood by the edge of the cliff, his bag at his feet as he gazed longingly at the sky and the sea in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is what I’ve always imagined when I thought about my soulmate showing me the rest of the world,” he told George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked beautiful with the wind in his hair and his hoodie and jacket keeping him warm, and George wondered yet again why God would give him such a gift if he was not allowed to have it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles sat down facing the sea, and George sat behind him, facing the green he had never been able to see before. He was disappointed that the winter dulled it slightly. Still, he was grateful it wasn’t just a palette of greys to him any longer, and he knew that Charles was enjoying the way the wintry blue sky blended with the sea, so he held on to that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat there, backs pressed together, not saying a word for what seemed like hours.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Charles asked as the setting sun began to cast gold shadows over everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded, but realised Charles couldn’t see him. “Charles,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know I –” George struggled to hide the fact that he’d started to cry, but his voice hitched in his throat. “You know I love you, right? No matter what happens. No matter what’s going to happen. No matter whether I can say it or how many times I say it or if I will ever get to say it again. No matter whether I’m supposed to. I love you. You know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chuckle Charles gave rocked his entire body, and George had a feeling it wasn’t just a laugh. “Yeah.” Charles’s voice was thick. “Mhm. Don’t worry about it. I know that. And I love you, too. So, so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for all of this. I’m sorry that your soulmate is...me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that. I wouldn’t rather have anyone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George had never met someone so patient and so kind in his entire life, and he was so, so glad that this person turned out to be his soulmate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished it was warm enough for them to camp out in the meadow that night so George wouldn’t have to go back and face the wrath of his family, but despite everything else they were put through that day, the weather wasn’t giving them any breaks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George dropped Charles off at Alex’s doorstep and left after pressing a kiss to his head. He didn’t say anything, too afraid that he would break down right there. He knew Charles would fill Alex in, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The dinner table was set when George made it home. George bypassed it entirely, along with his family sitting in the living room waiting for him. He went upstairs to his room and managed to shut the door before he broke down crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat at his window, and in the distance, he could see the rooftop of Alex’s house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered how Charles was doing. He wondered what he was having for dinner at Alex’s house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wondered how it was possible to love someone as much as he loved Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For all his life, George had known that he would, but now that he was actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>feeling</span>
  </em>
  <span> it, now that his heart was actually bursting with the love – it was so much more than what he had imagined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a knock on his door after an hour or so, and George’s mum stepped in with a plate of food. She placed it on George’s table, and said, “We saved you some dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t want to turn around. He tried not to let his shoulders shake as he continued to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George.” Ma’s voice was soft and scared. “Baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to talk about it right now, ma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mum stood in the doorway silently for a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George,” she said again. “You know this is a sin. It’s a sin.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think I don’t know that? I’m trying to figure it out, ma,” George whispered. “I fight it every single day, too. I’m only asking for you and dad to support me while I do it. While I figure it out. With Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know in your heart that it’s not right. You know that me and dad will never accept this from you because this is not what the Lord taught us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George squeezed his eyes shut. “I know,” he said. He didn’t. Not anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just stay away from him. Okay? Stay away from him, get some time alone, and then maybe your mind will be clearer and you can seek for forgiveness. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ever since George had met Charles, he had known that he’d be defying all of the Church’s teachings if he were to be with Charles. He had known with all his heart that he wasn’t supposed to love Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he had hoped that someone could teach him the way to accept it, to accept the plan God had given him. He had hoped that his parents, the people George knew loved him more than anyone else in the world, could hold his hand through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They couldn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All George had ever wanted was to be told he was loved the way he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma, please leave me alone,” George whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ma shut the door softly behind her. George crouched next to his bed, and he clasped his palms together, and he closed his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Heavenly Father, thank You for blessing me with another day. It was exhausting, and I am worn out. I’m so, so tired. I don’t understand what You have given me and how I’m supposed to get through it. I know You are trying to make me stronger but it hurts so much and I don’t know what my next step will be. Dear God, please – please bless me with the serenity to understand what I need. Please give me the strength to overcome all the obstacles that You have decided will help me to grow. Lord, please bless ma, dad, Benjy, Cara, and all my friends. Please bless Charles with all the happiness that he deserves. Amen.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>George brought the uneaten plate of food downstairs and put it on the kitchen table, where his parents were having some tea. He left it without a word, feeling his parents staring after him as he went back upstairs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crawled into bed and fell asleep almost immediately from pure exhaustion, hoping that he would wake up and the whole day would’ve been a dream.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Spending New Year’s without George was one thing, but spending New Year’s without George after what had happened with his parents was a whole other story.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles got to speak to him over midnight into the New Year, and he assumed it was because George still wasn’t on good enough terms with his parents to be with them for the countdown. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only a couple of days into the year, George stopped responding to Charles’s texts, and he stopped calling Charles or picking up Charles’s calls, and Charles couldn’t figure out why until he went back to school and met up with Alex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d just finished training, and Alex was waiting in the otherwise empty bleachers. Pierre dragged Charles over with him while everyone else headed to the locker rooms to clean up and change. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you heard from George?” Charles asked Alex. “He’s not taking my calls.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that,” Alex said. He tugged on Charles’s arm so Charles would sit next to him. “George, uh...his parents changed his phone plan. They’re only allowing him to call and text them, his siblings, and me, and two of his coursemates. Everyone else is blocked. So he hasn’t been able to contact you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles felt his heart sink into the muddy school field. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” was all he managed to ask. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’d wanted to give them your number disguised as one of the coursemates’, but they decided to call and check, so he couldn’t. But they don’t know that I know you. So you can use my phone to call him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I –” Charles couldn’t find the words to say. “Is he doing okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um…” Alex hesitated, and he looked like he was going to spill something, but Pierre nudged him. “Yeah, he told me to tell you he’s doing fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was very diplomatically put, and Charles wasn’t convinced. “What is it?” he pleaded. “Alex. Tell me, please.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex exchanged another glance with Pierre. “George is being sent for therapy,” he said gently, as if he thought that Charles wouldn’t be hurt if he spoke softly enough. “Uh…they call it conversion therapy. With a church in the city. It’s to...they say it’s to change his sexual orientation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles shook his head. “He shouldn’t have told his parents,” he whispered. “I told him we could wait and see. But he didn’t listen. He said telling them would help him figure it out faster.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Alex placed a hand on Charles’s shoulder. “I’ve talked to George, and he said that he doesn’t regret anything. He doesn’t regret telling his parents. He said a part of him knew that they’d be angry, but he had hope that they would try to understand him, and for you, he couldn’t just let go of that hope. For you, and for himself. He said that if he’d let go of any little hope he had, then he wouldn’t be worthy of loving you. And he told me to tell you not to worry about him, that he’ll do everything they ask him to do but he knows that it’ll never change what you two have. Never. and I’ve never heard George speak that way, I know he talks a lot and he’s constantly dropping facts on all of us but I’ve never heard him sound so sure about anything, ever. He really, really loves you. So Charles. You just have to trust him. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nodded. He didn’t know what else to do, or to say. He just looked down and cried into his lap and Pierre and Alex just sat there, not knowing how to help him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles just wished that things didn’t have to be so hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished he could be the nice Catholic girl that George had always wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the feelings, everything that Charles had held in for the sake of George, it all spilled out at once. All the nagging doubts about whether he and George would make it, the worry that George was choosing the wrong side in the fight between his religion and his soulmate, and the sadness at how meeting his soulmate hadn’t been the magical journey that Charles had always wished for.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had always thought, a little part of him had always thought, that maybe George really </span>
  <em>
    <span>shouldn’t</span>
  </em>
  <span> be loving him. Maybe he would be right to go along with the Church and reject Charles as his soulmate. Maybe Charles was just...wrong for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Alex said again. “Um, I have to go drop some food off. I’ll pop by Pierre’s room later. Anytime you want to call him, you just come to me, okay? Anytime at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles watched him press a kiss to Pierre’s lips and leave on his bike. Pierre sat quietly next to Charles, like he was afraid to get Charles to do anything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles,” he finally said. “You alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of his voice made Charles burst into tears again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s constantly fighting himself because of me,” he sobbed. “Pierre. I watched you do that for your entire life. I watched you fight yourself because of Alex. I know how it feels. How much it hurts. I’d never wish it on anyone else. But now I have to watch him do it. The love of my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles. I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just –” Charles didn’t even know what he wanted anymore. He shrugged. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pierre watched him for a while, then slung an arm across Charles’s shoulders. “We’ll go clean up now, okay?” he said softly. “Then we’ll go look for Alex, and you can use his phone to call George. Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles felt so out of control of his body as he followed Pierre to the changing rooms and changed out of his sweaty clothes. Pierre brought him to a diner for some food but Charles struggled to swallow anything at all, and was forced by Pierre to get a doggy bag for his burger and fries so he could eat them later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex was already waiting at Pierre’s room, which was a relief. He gave Charles his phone and told Charles he could use it for as long as he wanted, and Charles was almost crying with happiness as he crawled into bed and called George, who was saved in Alex’s phone as </span>
  <em>
    <span>Georgie</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, Georgie,” he said when George took the call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told him to change it back to George.” Charles could almost see George rolling his eyes. “Hey, you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about me, okay?” George said softly. “I’m okay. I’m really okay. I’ll get through it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s all my fault. It’s my fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you don’t blame me and I know you don’t regret telling your parents, and every day I wonder how you can be so brave. And I just – I know this sounds cheesy as hell but I just want to hold you. I just want to hold you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” George sounded tired. He just sounded so, so tired. “I wish I could be there. I really do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George,” Charles said. “If you ever – if you ever decide that you’ve been right all this time, that I’m wrong for you and the Church is right, then...then go for it, okay? I’ll be – I’ll be fine. If you decide that, then I’ll be okay with it. Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles,” George whispered. “You feel more right to me than being Catholic ever has. I know I’ve grown up being taught all of this and it’s everything that I’ve ever known and it feels right to me. But you feel – you’re even more than that. You know? You’re more than that. I’ve been taught not to be comfortable with it, but I am, and that’s what scares me. Do you get that? I – you just mean so much more to me than any of this, and I want you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you sad?” Charles asked. “That you – you waited your whole life for your soulmate, you spent years and years looking at grey and waiting for it to be green, you spent all that time, and – and it turned out to be me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” George’s voice was soft now, like he’d started to cry. “I’m so happy that it’s you. I’m so happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry,” Charles sobbed. “I’m sorry that it’s not what you’ve always thought it would be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles, love. Don’t be sorry. It’s better than what I always thought it would be. It’s you. It’s better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes I just wish that I could be right for you, you know? That I could be the right soulmate for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are. Charles, don’t say that. You’re right for me and I – I’m sorry that I’m not right for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You are. You’re perfect for me,” Charles said. “I’ve always, always wanted someone to love. Someone to give all my love to, no matter what. And now I have you, and I know you’re fighting hard every day but you’ve never once rejected all my love. You’re perfect for me, George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I’ve always wanted?” George gave a little sniffle. “I’ve always wanted someone to love me for who I am. Just for who I am, without any filters. Just like how I’ve been told God loves me. And you do. I know we haven’t been together all that long and we haven’t seen each other too many times but we’ve already been through so much and you’re still here. And that’s how I know that you’re right for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else, George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just –” George paused to sniffle again. “Don’t think about what they’re telling me in therapy, okay? Don’t think about it at all. I know you told me it’s okay but I also know you’re worried they’ll change my mind. But I’ve already made up my mind, and I chose you. They’re not going to change my mind. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nodded even though George couldn’t see him. “They’re not...George, tell me they aren’t going to do anything physical to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They won’t,” George said softly. “It’s at a church. They’re all about praying and teaching. Just don’t – don’t think about it, and don’t read about it, just pretend nothing is happening. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t do that,” Charles sobbed. “I want to know what you’re going through. I want to be there for you. And now, I can’t even call you, and I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, love. I’m sorry. We’ll get through this, I promise you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault, okay? None of this is your fault. It’s just...just something we have to go through. Yeah? And if you still want me by the end of it, then it’s just going to make us stronger. Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so, too.” There was a little smile in George’s voice. “Get some rest, okay, Charles? Take care of yourself. And you have Alex, and you can go to him whenever you wanna call me. Okay? I’ll be right here. Right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you so much, George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles returned Alex’s phone to him next door in Pierre’s room, then took a long, warm shower to refresh himself. Then he sat in bed with his laptop and leftover burger and he spent the entire night reading about the Catholic church and conversion therapy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only fell asleep when the warm blue of sunrise flooded the room in a way Charles had never noticed or appreciated before, hugging Charles the same way the colour did when Charles looked into George’s eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charles didn’t get to talk to George every day like he used to anymore. He barely even heard from George after that first phone call. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first day George went for therapy, Alex appeared at Charles’s room, his phone held out with </span>
  <em>
    <span>Georgie </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello?” Charles said as he put the phone to his ear. George didn’t respond. “Hey, love. How’d it go?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t wanna talk about it,” George whispered. Charles could hear him crying. “Can we just...can you just sit with me for a bit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles put his rolls of drawing paper down and climbed into bed. George was still crying quietly, and Charles decided not to disturb him. Instead, he just listened, his heart cracking further and further open with every sob he heard, until he was crying alongside George at everything the world was putting George through.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as he admired George for fighting so hard, he also wished that George...didn’t have to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat there for what seemed like hours and hours, thinking about how deeply in love he was with the boy over the phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” George’s voice was soft when he finally spoke, like he was afraid to disturb Charles. “You still there?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles swallowed his sob, but he wasn’t sure if George heard the little gurgle he made. “Yeah,” he said. “George, I – I’ll always be here. Always. Do you know that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George gave a little chuckle, and he sounded like he was still crying when he whispered, “Yeah. Thank you, Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Try and get some rest, okay?” Charles told him. “Do you want me to stay with you till you sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is that okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll just go next door and ask Alex, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex was planning on staying in Pierre’s room for the night, anyway, so he let Charles hold on to his phone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles brought it downstairs to the school field, and he lay in it, watching the stars George had pointed out to him the last time they were there together. He listened as George put him in his nightly prayer again, then climbed into bed and settled into it with a loud rustling noise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you real soon, okay?” Charles whispered. “Really, really soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.” George sounded so sleepy. “Charles. I – I love you, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Charles tried his hardest not to cry again. He knew George loved him. He knew. He just didn’t know for how much longer George was going to love him. “I know that, Georgie. I love you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles told George all about the stars he was looking at, and George sounded proud that Charles had remembered. He waited until George’s soft murmuring had stopped and he’d fallen asleep, then he hung up the phone and returned it to Alex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a shower and climbed back into bed, and he dreamed of holding his George in his arms for the rest of eternity.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George’s birthday fell on a Monday that year, and the weekend before it, he managed to get away to a nice beach house Alex’s parents had rented out for the four of them for George’s birthday.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His parents didn’t know he’d left campus for the weekend. George didn’t bother telling them because he didn’t want them to ask too many questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t like he told them too many things these days.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was his first time seeing Charles since Christmas, though, so he was quite excited. He took a bus to the little seaside town to meet the other three, and as he trudged down the last stretch to the beach house, he saw a figure charging at him like a raging bull. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George,” Charles breathed as he crashed into George’s arms, knocking his duffel bag out of his hand. “Oh, George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, love,” George whispered. “Charles. Hey, you. I missed you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles pressed his face into George’s shoulder, and George heard him inhale deeply, and it felt like Charles had inhaled George’s entire heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you?” George hugged him more tightly. “You’ve lost weight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>You’ve </span>
  </em>
  <span>lost weight.” Charles pulled away slightly, enough to hold George’s face in his hands. He examined George closely, his eyes travelling down and back up a few times. “You’ve lost so much weight. And you look so tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>tired, but. “I’m alright. Don’t worry about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did they – they didn’t...do anything to you, did they?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shook his head. “Promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles finally smiled at him then, though it was a small, tired smile. It did nothing to stop George from wanting to kiss him, so George leaned over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kissing Charles felt like coming home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt like coming home more than anything else had ever. More than going back home to his parents did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This weekend, we’re just going to forget everything, okay?” Charles whispered against George’s lips. “We’re gonna forget the real world exists, and we’re just gonna live in our own little world, and we’ll let ourselves be happy. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. He pressed another kiss to Charles’s lips, and for the first time, it felt freeing instead of suffocating. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pierre and Alex were already inside the beach house, hanging around the kitchen making some sandwiches. Charles brought George to one of the big bedrooms with a giant bed facing directly out a glass window that overlooked the sea. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I called dibs on this room for us,” he announced proudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat on the bed and watched George unpack his bag, but a moment later he was by George’s side, picking up something from the floor. Once George heard the rattling of pills, he knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is this?” Charles asked, examining the translucent orange bottle that had fallen out of George’s bag. “George. What is this? You said they weren’t doing anything to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just something to help me sleep.” George tried taking the pill bottle from Charles, but Charles held on to it tightly, staring at the label like he was memorising the name of the medication so he could look it up later. “It’s from a doctor. Not from the church. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have trouble sleeping? Why didn’t you tell me?” Charles had tears brimming in his eyes, and George. George was just so disappointed in himself. “George, I –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh, don’t say a word.” George pulled him into a hug. “Not a word. Charles. I’m fine. I just have trouble falling asleep. It’s nothing serious at all. Okay? Charles. This weekend, we’re gonna be happy, like you said. Yeah? We’re not going to think about all of this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles sobbed quietly into the front of George’s shirt for a while. Then he whispered, “I know you don’t want me to worry, but I want to know everything. I want you to tell me everything. Just so I know what’s going on, and I can be there for you. You know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. I’ll tell you everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll take care of yourself, yeah? When I’m – when I can’t be with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll take care of myself. For you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled up at George then, and he looked like an adorable little puppy and George just wanted to take him everywhere.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ended up just taking Charles outside, where there was a wind blowing, cold but not too biting. They nipped some of Pierre and Alex’s sandwiches and started walking down the long stretch of sand, armed with their sweaters and scarves. He knew it’d be cold, but George longed for the feeling of sand between his toes, so he took his shoes off and found the sand to be tolerably cool. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn’t say much, just walked with his hand loosely in George’s. The feeling of the blue bead on his bracelet pressing against George’s wrist was – it was freezing but warm at the same time, and as they walked, it just reminded George about how lucky he was to have Charles. About how they didn’t need to do anything or say anything, they could just be walking silently down a cold beach with loud waves by their side, and it would still be George’s favourite place in the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, George wished that his favourite place didn’t make his heart chew him up from inside out with guilt.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pierre and Alex were sitting on the back patio of the beach house when they returned, watching as the sun hung low above the horizon. The sunset was mild, it being just the tail end of winter, so the sky was still a greyish blue as Charles sat down next to Alex and the both of them started talking about how they’d thought blue looked like before they’d met Pierre and George. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It still fascinated them, the same way green still fascinated George even after six months. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pierre appeared by George’s side a few minutes later, a mug of warm tea in his hands. He handed it to George. “Fancy a walk?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George walked with him. He’d never really hung out alone with Pierre before, and he didn’t think he had anything to say to Pierre that wouldn’t be nerdy rambling, so he was relieved when Pierre started talking as they stepped back on the cold sand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alex is always talking to me about you,” he said. “He’s always asking if I think you’re alright.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I don’t mean to make everyone worry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I just –” Pierre sighed. “No, I don’t mean it that way. I just want you to know that we all care about you. Yeah? You’re not alone. You’re never alone. The three of us, we’re just one call away. Okay?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. He watched the grains of sand fall through the gaps between his toes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know what I used to tell Charles?” Pierre asked. “I told him that whoever his soulmate was, they were very, very lucky.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. I wasn’t...I know I was never the best friend to him. Never as good to him as he was to me. I was always angry and I never listened to what he tried to tell me. But he stuck by me all along. All these years, he’s held me and picked me up and he’s never given up on me. Sometimes I think he’s kinda like my platonic soulmate, you know? Just like Alex is yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I still think you’re very, very lucky, George,” Pierre continued. “He’s the kindest soul. He’s so patient and he never gets angry. He’ll always listen and he has such a big heart. And I just know he’s gonna stick by you the way he stuck by me, and he loves you to tiny tiny bits, and I hope you don’t ever feel like he’s giving up on you because I know he never will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Pierre,” George said. “I know I’m really, really lucky to have him. I just – I just hope he feels the same way about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He does. You let him love you. That’s all he’s ever wanted. Ever.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed. “Yeah, well,” he said. “I think he’s very lucky that he didn’t meet his soulmate because they ran into him with a bike and nearly killed him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pierre’s laughter was genuine and warm and louder than the roaring waves. “I honestly don’t think anyone can ever top that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, Alex really did take his shot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They got back to the beach house before it was completely dark, and walked into town to have dinner at a cozy local restaurant with warm chicken pot pies and roasted lamb. Even though it was still two days to George’s birthday, he got a nice strawberry cream cake and he got to blow out the candle and wish that he and Charles would have a life together in the future. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s nose remained pink throughout like he was simply not dealing well with the cold, and it was the most endearing thing George had ever seen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he laughed, his eyes crinkled at the corners and he got so breathless, and George didn’t want him to ever stop laughing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The four of them hung around in the living room for a bit, watching a random movie that was playing on TV. At about half past ten, Alex and Pierre, who’d been whispering conspiratorially all night long, stood up hand in hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re gonna go inside,” Alex said. “Uh, we’re – yeah, good night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good night, guys,” Pierre added.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They disappeared into their room, and George heard the lock click loudly shut.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles gave a little giggle from where he was, nestled comfortably under George’s arm. “Do you think they’re gonna…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think so,” George said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a good thing their room is at the opposite end of the house from ours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George laughed. “Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go inside.” Charles turned off the TV and took George’s hand as they made their way to their bedroom, and he had one of the sofa throws draped over his shoulders, and he looked like a mix between a superhero and just a really comfy person, and it brought a smile to George’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles sat in bed scrolling through his phone, but George really had limited options to do anything on his, so he just lay beside Charles and watched the rectangle of light illuminate his face like a little angel. Charles seemed to be scrolling through some artists’ social media, and he was happy to share when George asked. They spent some time just scrolling and talking quietly about the different types of artwork Charles showed George, and George was just...so happy to hear Charles talking about what he loved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, when Alex and Pierre first told me about you, they said that once you started talking, you never stopped?” Charles asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” George couldn’t help but laugh. He got that a lot. “Sometimes I just get excited, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I like it when you get excited. Like whenever you’re telling me about astronomy,” Charles said. “But you’re...you’re quieter around me than I expected.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t feel like I need to talk a lot around you,” George whispered. “Sometimes, between us...the silence is so nice, you know? Just knowing that you’re around. It’s not that I don’t have anything to share with you. I just feel like...everything I want to tell you, you already know. And if there’s any more, you know I won’t ever shut up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. He put his phone aside and pressed himself up against George, his lips finding George’s in the darkness. His arm curled around George’s waist, and he was so warm, and George instinctively pulled him even closer, on top of him as he rolled on his back. Charles’s gasps were hot and wet and George was just so </span>
  <em>
    <span>hungry</span>
  </em>
  <span> for them, and he searched for more, his hands in Charles’s hair and around his neck and under his shirt, but he just fell short of it being enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their bodies rocked in unison as Charles straddled George’s hips, his hands holding George’s face up towards his own. And George. George just loved him so much and he craved being this close to Charles, he craved holding Charles and he craved the friction between their skin, but – </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feeling started eating him up from inside again; the guilt, the remorse, the freezing </span>
  <em>
    <span>fear</span>
  </em>
  <span> that he was doing something he wasn’t meant to do. George’s hands stuttered on Charles’s hips, and Charles pulled away slightly to see what was wrong, but George pulled him back in, afraid that if he stopped kissing Charles, the feeling would eat him alive.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They both gave a coordinated shudder when George’s hands slipped under Charles’s shirt again, Charles keening closer to George, the entire length of his body pressed on George’s chest. And George was sure, he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>sure </span>
  </em>
  <span>this was what he wanted to be doing, he was sure he loved Charles and trusted him enough to do whatever they were leading up to, but he couldn’t help the anxiety that crept up on him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was just – he was so out of breath, and he was so uncomfortable, he was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>uncomfortable</span>
  </em>
  <span> but he didn’t want to be, and he accidentally let it show when his lips stopped moving against Charles while he focused on stopping his hands from shaking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George.” Charles’s lips were warm against George’s jaw. “Hey.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m okay. It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, hey.” Charles sat up and placed his hands gently on George’s chest. “We’ll stop. Yeah? We’ll stop if you’re not okay with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He started climbing off George, but George steadied him in place with his hands on Charles’s hips. “No, just – just stay here.” George swallowed hard. “I just – I want to. I really do. But I...I can’t. Not right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And that’s completely fine. Yeah?” Charles smiled down at him. “That’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George wondered how he could be so, so beautiful inside and out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He squeezed his eyes shut in an effort not to cry. “Fuck,” he muttered. “I’m sorry. Charles, I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that,” Charles whispered. He leaned in closer to George again, his thighs tightening around George’s hips as he held George’s face in his hands, softly, like a jewel. “Hey. Do you want to be kissed? Is that gonna be okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded and let Charles press a brief kiss to his lips. When Charles moved to place soft kisses on George’s temples, his eyelids, his cheeks, then his nose and his mouth again, repeating it once more and all the while counting up to sixteen with each kiss, it made George smile and his heart burst with joy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better?” Charles asked with the tiniest smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And when George looked into his eyes – when George looked into his eyes, he saw no trace of regret, none of pity, and no sign of any sadness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just full of love, full of love and acceptance of George and whatever he was comfortable or uncomfortable doing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room was dark, but Charles’s face and his eyes were so bright to George, and the way his hair stuck out in all directions made him look adorable and snug and George couldn’t help but be reminded that Charles was his favourite place in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles,” he whispered, fingers tracing Charles’s jaw. “I...it’s not you, okay? It’s not because of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that, love. We’ll take our time. Okay? We have forever. We have an eternity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George wished he could live out that eternity right then. Just the two of them, together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They settled into a comfortable silence, Charles still sitting on George’s abdomen and softly holding on to his hands. Eventually, George felt like he could breathe again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know, when Alex told me about Pierre, I said that I’d never expected his soulmate to be a boy?” he asked Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. And he said Pierre was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, and I told him to wait until I met my soulmate, and then we’ll see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. He let his fingers drum down George’s cheek. “And what about now?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was right. My soulmate </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> the most beautiful person.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s smile grew, and even under the dim light, George could see his eyes twinkle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He reached up and placed a palm on Charles’s cheek, and Charles leaned into his caress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so beautiful, Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s fingers returned to George’s cheeks, this time tracing the dark circles George knew were there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shut his eyes, and for the first time in a long, long time, he felt peaceful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you wanna take your pill and go to sleep?” Charles asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” George sighed. “I just – I don’t wanna waste a single moment with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles climbed off him and pulled the duvet over the both of them. Then he took George’s hand and they spent the whole night just talking, talking about what Charles did in the art studio and what George learned in his ethics class. About how every time Charles picked up some blue paint he would think about George, and how whenever George looked out his window and saw the trees he would miss Charles with his entire heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The waves sang lullabies to them outside their window, their sounds a soothing embrace in the night. It reminded George of being back at home, near the sea, and the quiet nights when he'd be able to hear the waves if he listened closely enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles fell asleep first, in the middle of a sentence and with his face pressed close to George’s, and George followed soon after – the first time in a month that he could fall asleep without any medication.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When George awoke the next morning, the sun was still rising to the right of their room, and Charles was sitting at the foot of the bed, looking out at the sea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so quiet, and so small, and his silhouette against the brightening sky just made George feel this inexplicable nostalgia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished, again, that he could give Charles the world. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George crawled out from under the covers and sat next to Charles, wrapping his arms around Charles’s waist and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Good morning,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, love.” Charles smiled. “Did you sleep well?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded, and he wasn’t lying. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept so well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles reached for his bag by his feet and pulled out two gifts, one wrapped and one unwrapped. He placed the unwrapped one in George’s lap. It was a small heart-shaped box of chocolates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Valentine’s Day today, so...happy Valentine’s Day. You’ll always, always be my Valentine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles placed the second gift in George’s hands; a small box, wrapped in gold paper. “This is for your birthday. Happy birthday, love. I hope you like it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George unwrapped it, and inside was a small blue velvet box containing two bracelet charms. One of them had a green four-leaf clover engraved on it, and the other had two constellations, one on each side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The clover for good luck,” Charles said softly. “And the constellations for both our zodiacs. ‘Cause you like stars, yeah? You can add them on your bracelet if you want.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George did exactly that, right away, one on each side of his green charm. Charles helped him put it back on, and when he smiled, it lit up the entire room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” George whispered. “I love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles held a palm to George’s jaw, and he took a long, deep breath, like he was trying to compose himself so he wouldn’t cry in front of George. “George. Take care of yourself, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will. Just so you won’t worry.” George held on to Charles’s wrist. “You have to take care of yourself, too, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got you something, too.” George grabbed the wrapped gift from his bag and handed it to Charles. “For Valentine’s Day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a personalised jigsaw puzzle made with one of their first photos together, in front of the ferris wheel at the summer carnival the year before. Once Charles figured out what it was, excitement took over him completely, and he dragged George to sit on the floor with him as he poured out all the pieces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s do this together,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George had barely ever seen Charles as happy as he was that day, sitting on the ground snuggled close to George as they deliberately took their sweet time to complete the puzzle. And it really was that simple, but it was everything that George could’ve wished for on his birthday, and he had the time of his life that weekend, living out his eternity with his Charles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The worst part about not being able to call or text George on any whim was that whenever something happened to Charles that reminded him of George, he couldn’t tell George about it right away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They only got to talk about once or twice a week, mostly on the weekends, and even then it wasn’t for too long, because it was Alex’s phone after all and he would be busy with deliveries until it was late. Sometimes, George just wanted to talk to Alex, and Charles would let him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To cope with never being able to talk to George, Charles started making and collecting little things that reminded him of George, so he could give them all to George when they saw each other again. He didn’t think it would be until the summer, at least, if not longer. But the thought of George’s smile and the look on his face when he listened to Charles explain each thing, it was simply too good to resist.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every day, Charles would make something for him; he would write a little note about his day, or he would do a simple watercolour painting, make a tiny clay figurine, or embroider something, and whenever he went into the city during the weekends he would make sure to get George something. His collection got bigger and bigger, and he got more and more excited because he’d kept it a secret from George and he just couldn’t wait to see George’s reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles did get busier and busier as summer approached, though, dealing with his cultural heritage exam, writing two essays, and completing an oil painting as part of his final grade. So maybe, just a small part of him was glad that he and George managed to live independent lives.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the final day before the deadline for his oil painting, he discovered that the top layer of paints had cracked because Charles had accidentally left it near his window and let the top layer dry too quickly under the sun. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spent the morning trying to fix it with anything he could possibly find in the art studio, but failed. In the afternoon after his last class, he rushed into town to look for any oils he could apply to smoothen the cracks, only to return to his room and find out that they didn't work. And on top of that, he hadn’t even gotten George anything from the city. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Left with no other choice, Charles spent the night recreating the oil painting he’d spent two weeks on previously, trying not to cry as he realised he was never going to complete it before the noon deadline the next day and was going to have to beg for an extension or submit his ruined work. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a two-hour nap, then headed to the art studio before his art history lecture to pass the painting to his advisor and see if he could wring out an extension. He didn’t come close to being successful, so he had to turn in his cracked oil painting with a description stating that he’d intended for it to have a cracked effect, just to hope that it would save him some points.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely had any time to dwell on it and how it would probably make it hard for him to edge over a passing grade, because immediately after his lecture came football training and preparation for their last few matches of that semester. It was an intense session, not only because they were in the critical period of their season, but also because Charles had only had two hours of sleep and a couple of days where nothing at all had gone right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to focus, and Charles wasn’t as quick on his reflexes in goal as he liked to be. But he knew he hadn’t yet suffered the complete wrath of the day when he fell awkwardly on his arm and twisted his wrist under him, and the resulting pain shot up to his left shoulder. He sat between the goalposts cradling his arm, and he was so exhausted from trying not to cry for the entire day that he just let the tears flow as the feeling slowly came back to his arm, a hot, searing pain that he could feel in his bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Pierre was the first person to run up to him. “You okay? Charles, why are you crying?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It really hurts,” Charles sobbed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where?” Pierre asked. By then, the rest of the team had gathered around Charles, and Charles. Charles just felt suffocated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My wrist.” Charles couldn’t even hold it up. Pierre pressed two fingers to it, and Charles almost went blind with the pain. “Fuck. Don’t press on it, it hurts.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I barely even touched it,” Pierre pointed out. “Okay. Everybody scatter, go back to training, and I’ll take Charles to the hospital.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn’t have it in him to argue. He got an ice pack strapped to his wrist, then Pierre was bundling him into the back of an Uber and to the emergency room, where Charles had an x-ray taken of his rapidly swelling wrist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You alright?” Pierre asked when Charles re-emerged with a temporary brace holding his wrist straight. Charles sat down next to him and started crying again, and Pierre looked a mixture of sad and terrified as he swept Charles’s sticky, unkempt hair from his forehead. “Charles. What’s going on?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just so tired,” Charles whispered. “Today was a shit day, and yesterday was a shit day, and now I won’t be able to finish the season because my hand is shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ll be okay, yeah? Your health is more important than the season,” Pierre said. “Do you want to call George? I can get Alex to drop by.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles shook his head. “I don’t want him to worry about me. He has enough to think about.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was given the choice to go home and wait for his x-ray result, but he decided to stay at the hospital in case they made him come back again. And despite his multiple attempts to get Pierre to go back and have some rest, Pierre refused, and he just sat silently next to Charles holding his good hand until a nurse came by and told Charles he had a hairline fracture and a torn ligament in his wrist and had to be put in a cast.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was just…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was so tired that he didn’t even care anymore. They could put his entire body in a cast and he wouldn’t care. He just wanted to lie down and have some sleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He tried not to think about anything else, about the unfinished season that loomed ahead and the failing grade that awaited his oil painting. When he got back to his room, armed with a brand new white cast and a bag of painkillers, he immediately crashed in bed, the last thing he remembered being Pierre folding a hoodie to elevate his wrist before closing the door quietly as he left.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t seem to matter how tired Charles was, because he only slept for two more hours before waking up in a cold sweat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first thing he noticed was that his bracelet with the blue bead wasn’t on his right wrist, his good hand, where he always wore it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn’t remember the last time he’d seen it. He’d been so distracted the entire day that everything seemed to blend together. What he did know was that he didn’t remove it on his own, so it must have broken and fallen off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles felt a sudden, heavy sense of doom descend on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a sinking feeling and it was overwhelming and it took Charles’s breath away, and he knew it didn’t make any sense but he suddenly had the feeling that something had happened to George. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, it would only be one more bad thing to cap off a day of bad things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The feeling only intensified when Charles got out of bed and saw his broken bracelet on the floor under his table, the blue bead flung further away in front of his wardrobe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Charles picked them up, it felt like he was holding pieces of George in his hand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he suddenly forgot everything – he forgot everything save for the deep emptiness that came with missing George, with never getting to see him and rarely talking to him. Everything save for the worry that suddenly overcame him and the need to see George right away and see for himself that George was okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He burst out of his room and stood outside Pierre’s door for a while, but the fact that it was almost two am on a Tuesday night stopped him from going ahead and knocking on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, with his newfound adrenaline, he grabbed the box of things he’d collected for George and packed some essentials into a backpack, and he waited fifteen minutes for an Uber to take him to the nearest car rental place.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles took out the smallest, cheapest car he could get, and he put everything in the backseat and he drove for four hours straight, one-handed and in tears, until he got to George’s university. It was dark and the roads were empty and the highway was clear, but Charles struggled with his one working hand, trying not to let his tears blur his vision. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he could think of was what he was supposed to do if George had died.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t think of anything he’d do. He couldn’t bear the thought of George not existing, much less think about how he would cope. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to get to George. It was running in his head like a mantra. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I have to get to George. </span>
  </em>
  <span>And all he could hear alongside it was the pounding of his heart and the rushing of blood in his ears, encouraging his foot to push harder on the pedal so he could get to George quicker. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>We have an eternity.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Charles wanted that eternity. He wanted so badly to live out that eternity with his George that he was willing to do anything as long as he got to keep it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t matter what it took him, as long as he got to see George again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The birds were already chirping and the sun beginning to rise when Charles got out of the car safely with his backpack, his knees almost buckling as his feet hit the concrete. He keyed in the number code for the front door, which he had memorized, then rushed up the stairs to George’s room and hammered on the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George pulled it open a minute later – the longest minute of Charles’s life – looking sleepy and flustered and confused, and it sent a wave of relief rushing over Charles so intensely his legs almost buckled under him again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George,” Charles sobbed, collapsing into George’s arms. “Oh, George. I thought something happened to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” George’s voice was still thick with sleep. “Hey. Nothing’s happened to me. Charles. I’m fine. I’m right here. Why’d you think that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My bracelet broke. I thought something bad had happened to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles.” George squeezed him tight. “How did you get here? You could’ve just called me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I couldn't call you. It was so late and Alex and Pierre were asleep and I didn't dare call you with my phone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just –” The words struggled to find their way past Charles’s tears. “I thought you’d – I thought you –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Hey, shhh, it’s okay. I’m right here.” George wrapped Charles up again, and Charles felt the first slivers of peace return to his body. “I’m so sorry. Charles, please, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t be without you tonight. I can’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Okay.” George pulled Charles and his fallen backpack into the room and closed the door. He sat down with Charles on the bed. “What’s going on? What happened?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just had such a horrible day,” Charles said softly. “I had such a shit day, and it just got worse and worse, and I just had to see you. I had to see you, George – I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have woken you.” The seriousness of what Charles had done, renting a car and driving here in the middle of the night, suddenly hit him. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come here. I’m sorry I woke you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” George seemed to only just notice the cast on Charles’s hand. “What happened to your hand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I broke my wrist during training.” Charles broke down sobbing again. He felt his heart clench and the room close in on him, and he couldn’t breathe, and – “George. I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come here, I just didn’t know what to do, I woke up and I thought something had happened to you and –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh, Charles,” George whispered. He took Charles’s face in his hands. “Charles. Hey. Just try to breathe, okay? Look at me, and breathe with me. Okay? Can we do that?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way he held Charles was – it was soft and gentle and it felt like Charles was being cradled by a bunch of clouds in the blue sky. His gaze was worried and tired but it was still Charles’s favourite blue in the entire world, and he got lost in them, lost and floating in an endless blue expanse, until George gave his cheeks a squeeze and he was pulled back into reality. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles just felt...so healed by George’s gaze and his grasp and his everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Better?” George whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nodded, though it sunk in again that he was here, four hours away from school, in the middle of the night, all because he had an irrational panic attack. He hung his head in embarrassment. “Sorry,” he mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop saying that.” George gave Charles’s cheeks another squeeze, then moved his hands down Charles’s shoulders and arms. “You’re so cold. Do you feel cold?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn’t have any time to respond before George was getting up and grabbing a dark green hoodie draped over the back of his chair. He tugged it over Charles’s head, smiling as he adjusted it over Charles’s shoulders and made sure Charles was warm and comfortable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did you get here?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I rented a car.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And you drove here with one hand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nodded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” George asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I love you.” Charles thought it was obvious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled. He pressed a soft kiss on Charles’s lips. “I love you more,” he whispered, then gently lifted Charles’s injured wrist. “Does this hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had been too high on adrenaline earlier to notice that it did hurt quite a bit, but now that George mentioned it, it was the only feeling Charles was aware of. His arm was heavy as lead and his shoulder hurt from supporting the cast, and his good hand was sore from gripping the steering wheel so hard. Exhaustion settled over Charles once again as the euphoria of seeing George slowly faded and was replaced by the rest of Charles’s troubles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They gave me painkillers,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George helped him get them from his backpack, and Charles was so rapidly overcome with fatigue after taking them that he was ready to fall asleep again. He was grateful when George pulled him into bed, and he plastered himself against George’s side, wrapping his injured arm and one leg around him like a bolster. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles,” George whispered. “Don’t feel bad about coming here, okay? I love that you’re here. I missed you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was just – after the day he’d had, all he had hoped for when he’d started his journey here was that he could see George safe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he had, and nothing else really mattered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles fell asleep with a smile on his face, his cast resting on George’s heart. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George had a lecture two hours later which he took online, and Charles was awoken by him getting out of bed to take his laptop. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He easily fell back asleep, still draped over George, the sound of his lecture a soft drone in his earphones as he occasionally pressed small kisses on Charles’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next time Charles woke up, George was gone, replaced by a stack of clothes for Charles’s wrist to rest on and a post-it note placed in his palm.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Called Alex and Pierre to say you’re okay. Am out for a walk. Love you. G.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles dragged himself out of bed to take his painkillers, then decided to go downstairs and wait for George in the garden in front of his dorm, where George had told Charles he always went when he missed Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The empty bench that Charles sat down on was surrounded by bushes, small and tall, blooming in the start of summer with pink and white flowers. And Charles really understood why George said it felt like being hugged by the colour green. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George came back about a half-hour later, with a paper bag. He was smiling as he sat down next to Charles, and for the first time, under the daylight, Charles saw how tired he was and how much more weight he’d lost. He was almost just a sack of bones. His eyes were exhausted above all, but they were a little puffy, like he’d been crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How was your walk?” Charles asked him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was okay. I take one every day, just to clear my head,” George said. “How was your sleep?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was nice.” Charles leaned into George’s grasp as George placed his hand in Charles’s hair. “Are you alright? You look –” Charles tried to swallow his worry. “You look so tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. “I just still can’t believe you’re here,” he said softly. “Charles. It’s just – I really, really love that you’re here, but...don’t do that again, okay? Don’t drive here in the middle of the night on two hours sleep and with a broken hand. I just – I don’t want you to get in an accident. I wouldn’t know what to do if anything happened to you like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles sighed as the enormity of what he’d done sunk in again, and the thoughts that had haunted him on the way here last night crept back up on him, and he realised that he would never wish them on George if he had the choice. “Yeah, I’m – I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shook his head. “Just...just take care of yourself. Yeah? I don’t – I’m sorry that I can’t be close to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Charles looked down at his hands. “I’m sorry, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got you a burrito.” George placed the paper bag in Charles’s lap. “And some nachos.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you eaten?” Charles asked him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George hesitated before shaking his head. “I’m not hungry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George.” Charles slid closer to him on the bench. “You have to eat something. Is there anything wrong? Talk to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing’s wrong,” George whispered. Charles noticed that his palms were red and his fingertips were raw, like George had just been nervously rubbing his hands together the entire morning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George. Love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t want to make everything about me all the time.” George sounded small and scared and Charles hated seeing him that way. His shoulders started to shake, like he’d started to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Charles whispered, pulling George close. He placed a kiss on the top of George’s head, but the sight of him crying and the feeling of him shaking in Charles’s arms put Charles on the verge of tears. “Hey. You know it’s not like that with us. It’s not like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Every morning – every morning I wake up and it restarts,” George said, breathless between his sobs. “Every morning I wake up and I’m made to feel horrible because I have feelings for you that I shouldn’t have.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who’s to say that?” Charles hurriedly wiped his tears with the back of his hand. “Who’s to say you shouldn’t have them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George looked up at the sky, his eyes red-rimmed, and Charles already knew the answer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had always known the answer, and he resented it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now, he could feel it pulling George further and further away from him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is this why you have trouble sleeping?” Charles asked. “Because you know you’re going to feel this way when you wake up?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shrugged. “Maybe.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was probably why George took a walk every day. He’d spend his whole day fighting it, fighting the feeling, and by the time he felt comfortable enough, it was time for bed, and time for another day. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles understood.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George,” Charles whispered. “I’m gonna count for you, and then I’m gonna tell you something, and I hope you’ll consider it. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded, so Charles took his hand and counted, twice as slowly, to sixteen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’ll be good for you to go home in the summer, and spend some time with your family,” Charles said softly. “Maybe it’ll help you...realise what you really want. What really makes you happy. Maybe it’ll help you really discover which path you have to go on in order to not keep feeling this hurt.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not choosing any path that doesn’t have you in it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not. I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>not.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love, I – I’m starting to think that I can’t give you happiness. And that’s all I want. That’s all I want to give you. And I’m sorry I can’t do it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You do. Charles, you do. You make me so, so happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t want you to keep fighting yourself. To keep fighting who you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George heaved a deep, long sigh. He took the paper bag back from Charles and placed it on the bench, so he could take both of Charles’s hands, even the one that was half-covered with the cast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not fighting against who I am,” he said, softly, his voice shaking. “You know? I’m not. I’m fighting against who I thought I was. And I just – I just have to snap out of that, and realise that I was wrong all along. Because </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>is who I am. Not what I thought before. It’s just that it’s been twenty years, and it’s hard to let go of that, no matter how badly I want to. Especially now with the therapy, telling me – telling me I’m going in the wrong direction. That I have to come back or else I’m no longer God’s precious son. I’m trying to be both, you know? I’m trying to be God’s precious son and love you at the same time. It’s just so many voices all the time, </span>
  <em>
    <span>all the time</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and I –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay. Okay.” Charles stopped his anxious rambling with a finger to his lips, then cupped his warm cheek in his palm. “Yeah. I get that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to lose you, Charles,” George sobbed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going to lose me. I’m gonna be right here. Always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just so afraid that you’re going to get so sick of me, so fucking sick of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s nothing you can possibly do that will make me feel that way. I’ve waited all my life for you, George. I’m not letting us go without a fight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George finally smiled, then, and the way his cheek moved under Charles’s palm made Charles fall in love all over again. “Charles,” he whispered. “I know it’s hard for you, too. And sometimes, I’m just so scared that I’ll end up chasing you away if I keep dwelling on this. And it’s just – it’s not that I don’t trust you or I don’t want to talk to you. It just makes me so scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that, love.” Charles gave his cheek a squeeze. “I just hope you can trust me. The same way I trust you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do. I’m trying so hard. And I know you are, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles pulled George’s hand up to his lips, and the smile George gave lit up the entire world. “We’ll get through this together, like we said. It doesn’t matter how long it takes. One day, we’ll make it. Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. “Do you have your bracelet?” he asked. “Can I see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles found his broken bracelet where he’d left it, in the pocket of his sweatpants. He handed it to George, who examined it for a moment before asking, “Do you wanna go into the city with me today? We can get you a new one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles finished his burrito on the way into the city, and they shared the nachos as they strolled down the streets before finding the shop where George had bought the bracelet. Charles managed to get them to repair the old bracelet instead of him getting a new one, because he was sentimental that way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George got him two new charms, one with a G and a C on each side, and another with a paintbrush and a football. Charles wore them proudly with his blue bead, and it even made George smile, which was a bonus.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had never really been to this city a lot, so he listened to George point out the different stores he liked to go to and the park in the middle of the city he sometimes went for a walk in. George was talking a lot, and he seemed to have forgotten how upset he was earlier, so Charles was distracted by the look on his face and the fact that he was returning to some semblance of his old self, and didn’t notice that George had pulled him into a mobile phone store in the middle of a row of shops.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been saving some money from my allowance these few months,” he told Charles. “Now I have enough to get myself a cheap phone and a prepaid plan every month so I can call and text you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t have to do that.” Charles thought it was unnecessary for George to spend all this money on him; technically, </span>
  <em>
    <span>only</span>
  </em>
  <span> for him. “It’s working out okay with Alex.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shook his head stubbornly. “I saved up just for this. I just wanna be able to talk to you whenever I want. Yeah? I’ll save all my minutes just for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles knew he couldn’t do anything to stop George, so he helped George pick out a cheap second-hand phone and saved the number in his contacts, finding that he felt that much more carefree now that he knew George was in his pocket, one call away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just before dinnertime when they passed the city church, an old white building nestled in the middle of a row of modern shopfronts. George stopped in front of it, still tightly holding on to Charles’s good hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is the church I come to every weekend,” he told Charles. “And every other week for...for therapy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Charles smiled. “That’s nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Could you, um…” George sounded anxious again. “Could we go inside for a little bit?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the only time George had taken Charles to church with him besides that time for Christmas Mass, so he wondered why they were making this sudden excursion. But George looked broken and upset again as they stepped inside, and Charles knew he’d only brought Charles there because he trusted Charles to be with him while he was most vulnerable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The main hall was empty except for the two of them, but the lights in the back hallways were turned on. Charles sat in one of the pews as George went up front and did his prayers in front of the big cross. He was teary-eyed when he returned, and he sat in the pew across the aisle from where Charles was sitting. He didn’t touch Charles. Perhaps he didn’t dare to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everything else seemed to fade away as George gazed at him from across the burgundy carpet, too far away for Charles to touch but close enough for Charles to hear him breathing. His gaze switched from Charles’s face to the cross at the front, then back to Charles, and his eyes were a deep, thoughtful blue, and Charles almost felt like George was introducing him to his Holy Father.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they sat there silently, there was gradually such a strong presence of something else in the room that Charles couldn’t describe, a presence that made him legitimately believe that George really had brought Charles there in person to seek for advice, to show God that this was his soulmate, and to tell God how much he loved Charles. That he was saying, </span>
  <em>
    <span>God, you gave this to me, now tell me what I’m supposed to do with it.</span>
  </em>
  <span> And maybe right then, George was going to be able to get some clarity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t say a word; he didn’t say a single word for more than an hour, and Charles was just mesmerised by the look of him, peering up at the ceiling, at his Lord, at his God, against the backdrop of the stained glass windows on the roof. The look of fear and dejection and uncertainty that was now so familiar to Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just more than half a year ago, the radiant, vivid stained glass would have been missing a colour for Charles. One of its brightest, most vibrant colours. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now the windows were in their full glory, and Charles was there to see them with the only reason why, and it was a bittersweet feeling but Charles knew that he wouldn’t have it any other way.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He watched George silently, forgivingly fight that same battle he’d fought since the first day he’d met Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The walls of the church wrapped them up in a way that was suffocating but warm. Charles could feel it, he could feel the embrace and the care of the God that George believed in. He was sure George felt it a thousand times stronger. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whole time they were there, for almost two hours, George only uttered one sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What am I supposed to do when the one thing I’ve waited for my whole life is a sin?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn’t hear any answer. He didn’t know if George did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t dare ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun had set by the time they stepped outside, and although Charles felt like he could finally breathe again, it also felt like they had left something behind in the warm confines of the church walls. A secret, or a prayer, or a wish that remained only between God and George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t speak as they took the bus back to George’s campus, and Charles got the box of George’s things from the car before they headed upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been collecting and making these things for you every day,” he told George after they’d showered and George was sitting in his bed. “Just small things that remind me of you. I saved it all for when I would see you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George looked so </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span> at the sight of it. He dug into the box like a child on Christmas morning, holding every single thing in his hand and admiring it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked so beautiful and so carefree when he smiled, and Charles just wished that he could be free of all his troubles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George laid everything out on the floor, all of them arranged nicely in rows, and made Charles explain to him the significance of each single thing. All the watercolour paintings, mostly done in blue. All the little random keychains and magnets and books and other small things Charles got from the city. The nicely folded letters that lit up George’s face with a smile when he read them. The toy plasticine figures that Charles made for all the things that reminded him of George; a ferris wheel, a tiny carousell, several pairs of detachable clay dolls representing the two of them, and a little 2D rendition of a beach, among others. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They spent the whole evening just sitting there on the floor, and it was simple and nothing anyone else would have expected for their first meeting after four months, but Charles honestly did not want nor wish for anything more than to be by George’s side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George did end up going home that summer, if only because he didn’t want to miss his family’s annual holiday with Alex’s family.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He spent most of the time just chilling with Alex, away from his parents. Benjy and Cara, who both knew about Charles, would occasionally join them; although they’d been raised exactly the same way George was, they seemed more accepting of George and his relationship with Charles. Benjy even took George alone on a hike one day, through the greenery that George hadn’t been able to see on their last trip there. He talked to George about everything he’d ever learnt about the Church and homosexuality, and he listened to George tell him about Charles, and he told George that no matter what happened, George would always be his little brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t tell him about his new spare phone. He didn’t tell anyone about it. Only Alex. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At night, when they were all burrowed in their separate bedrooms and Alex was in his own bed across the room from George, George would take out his phone and call Charles and talk to him until his minutes exploded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they went back home, away from the bright blue beach that was the epitome of summer, the holidays just got so much duller. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure, there was a cliff and a raging sea just a five-minute walk down the street, behind Alex’s house, but it was the way that George was confined with his parents all day that made him want to run away and hide. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But all was quiet for a while, and neither dad nor ma made any mention of Charles, so George decided maybe this really was the best way out – to let it tide over. Let them forget about Charles. Maybe one day, a long time later, in a place far away, George would finally be able to be with him without his parents knowing or caring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George just...felt so stupid to have ever thought that it would be that simple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was sitting in the backyard, nestled in the green grass and watching the neighbour’s kids play on the lawn across the street, when Benjy came outside to get him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George,” he said quietly, squatting down next to George. “Hey, uh...mum and dad are asking for you. I...they have something to tell you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is it important?” George asked. He was very much comfortable where he was and didn’t wish to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, uh...George.” Benjy sounded serious, and it was not at all like him not to start calling George names when he saw George, so George’s attention was piqued. “Just – listen to what they have to say, and don’t get angry just yet. Okay? I know you can be such a dickhead when you’re mad. But we’ll talk about this, you’ll talk about this to them, and maybe we can work this out. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It sounded really serious, and George suddenly didn’t want to leave the warm, comforting green of the backyard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He trailed behind Benjy as they went inside. Their parents were in the living room, sitting together on the sofa. They stared at George as George sat across from them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember what I said, dickface,” Benjy whispered before leaving, and George felt just enough relief from the familiarity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he hadn’t really directly spoken to his parents since the whole thing had happened over Christmas, so to have them suddenly summon him that way was a bit terrifying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George, you’re turning twenty-one in February,” dad started off saying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t understand why or how that was a relevant topic to start their conversation with. It was only the middle of August. “Yeah,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We think that’s a nice age for you to get married, and by the time you graduate, it’ll be time to start a family,” George’s dad said. “There’s this really nice girl who lives just down the street. They moved here just before you left for university. We know her parents from church, and she turns twenty-one this December, so she’s just the right age for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The meaning of what his dad was trying to tell him sunk in quickly and heavily on George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Despite the rush of feelings that overcame him, he only had enough strength to let one word burst out of his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to meet her and her parents on Sunday,” dad continued, as if he’d long decided not to heed any of George’s protests. “You’ll come with us, and you’ll get to know her. And then we’ll plan the wedding.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going,” George said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to have a nice little lunch after church.” Ma was softer than dad was, like she was hesitant to force anything on George. “Her name is Anna. She’s a nice girl. Catholic. We’ve met her a few times. I’m sure you’ll like her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not fucking going.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George.” Ma sounded sad and disappointed and worried, and George hated it. It looked like it pained her to say the words. “You’ll meet her, and you’ll like her, and you’ll marry her in February. And then we can move on from what happened.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George couldn’t think of anything to say that would change their mind or make the situation any better, so he got up and went upstairs to his bedroom and shut the door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It opened a couple of minutes later. “Hey, George,” Benjy said softly from the doorway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go away,” George snapped. He didn’t want to. Not at Benjy. He just – he just felt so humiliated and betrayed in that moment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door clicked shut a few moments later, leaving George alone again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George just couldn’t keep still. He tried sitting at the window and looking at all the nice green trees in the distance, but he ended up standing up and pacing the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His spare phone was where he’d left it, hidden in the pillowcase of the bottommost pillow stacked on his bed. It was where he kept his green bead bracelet as well; he avoided wearing it around his parents so they wouldn’t ask him questions. He dug it out along with his phone and dialled the only number in the contact list.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles,” he breathed when the call connected.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, love.” Charles’s voice brought a wave of relief that almost made George shiver. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s your hand?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt so much anymore. I’m going to the hospital next week and they’ll take the cast off and we’ll see.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George could barely hold in his tears at the sound of Charles’s voice. He’d heard it so many times, over the phone and in person, but it still was his favourite sound, and he still craved it every second. “Mm,” he mumbled. “That’s good.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Charles asked gently.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George burst into tears, and he crouched on the floor as his legs finally gave way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re marrying me off,” he sobbed. “My mum and dad. They – they found this Catholic girl, and she’s turning twenty-one, and I’m turning twenty-one, and they’re making me meet her on Sunday, and next – next February, they’re gonna have a wedding, and they say it’s gonna help us all move on from this.” George couldn’t feel his hands, nor his legs, and panic took over him again as he struggled to breathe. “My dad, he – they’re marrying me off. They’re not going to change their minds. They’re – Charles, I don’t want to do it. I’m so scared.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a stunned silence on Charles’s end for a few moments.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can you talk to them?” Charles’s voice was small and timid and defeated and it snatched all of George’s hopes away to hear him like that. “Can you talk them out of it? Say it’s not what you want?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can’t. I told them I wasn’t going, but they just completely ignored me, like I didn’t exist, and they were simply telling a robot what to do. Charles, you should’ve seen their faces. I can’t do anything. I don’t want to get married. I don’t – I thought they’d forgotten about us. I listened to them and I went to therapy and I didn’t call you with my phone. I listened to them. I did everything they asked me to do. I put myself through all of this and I hurt so much every day because of them and they did this. They betrayed me, Charles, I – I –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Charles whispered. “Okay, okay. George. I’m gonna count for you. Okay? Listen to me, yeah? Listen to my voice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of Charles counting never, ever failed to calm George, no matter what sort of storm was brewing around him. The room settled down and the walls stopped closing in on George. Air returned to his lungs and his hands stopped shaking as they gripped the phone. He clutched the bracelet close to his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It felt so familiar, holding that phone and talking to Charles; it was what had helped George through his two weeks of final exams and that week-long holiday with his family, and the two weeks he’d spent so far at home. And even in a moment like that, crouched like a scared mouse in the corner of his old room, it was still George’s favourite thing to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to do it,” George whispered once the counting had died down. “I’m yours. Charles, I’m yours. I’ll always be yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George, love…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t give up on me.” George’s chest was so tight, and he was so breathless, and he couldn’t see, and he thought he might’ve been having a panic attack yet again. “Please. Please don’t give up on me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not.” Charles’s voice was resolute and convincing, despite everything. “George, I swear. I swear to whichever God you want or don’t want to believe in. I’m yours, and you’re mine, and nothing will ever, </span>
  <em>
    <span>ever </span>
  </em>
  <span>change that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just –” George’s vision came back slowly to him, but his heart was still going like a freight train. “I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be,” Charles whispered. “You do what you have to do, yeah? I’ll be right here. Always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to get married, Charles,” George sobbed. “I just...I just wanna run away. I just wanna go far, far away and never come back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too,” Charles said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I could leave this family, I would.” George had always thought the words, but he’d always been too afraid to say them aloud. “Charles. I swear – the next time something happens, I’m leaving.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do that. They’re your parents. They just want the best for you. You can’t just leave them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This isn’t the best for me,” George said. “They don’t know. They don’t understand. I’m an adult now and I know myself and I know what I want. And I choose you. I’ll always choose you. Charles, I’ve loved you since I was born. Since before I even knew you. They can’t stop me from loving you, from choosing you every day of my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles sighed. “George, I just…” He sounded so helpless and hopeless and it tore George apart. “I don’t know what to do. I really, really want to help you. But I don’t know what I can do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If I –” George tried his hardest not to start crying again. “If I marry her...what happens to us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nothing will change the way I feel about you,” Charles whispered. “Yeah? You know that. But...it’s going to be so unfair. To you and to her. If we’re still...yeah. While you’re married.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” George closed his eyes as coherent thoughts began to come back to him. Charles was so – he was so even-tempered and his love for George was so undying and unconditional, and George didn’t think he would ever be able to give Charles anything close to what Charles had given him. “Charles, it’s so unfair to you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just what life is, yeah?” Charles’s voice shook at the end, and it broke George’s heart again. “Listen. Just...just go meet her, yeah? See what she’s like. Maybe you’ll like her. Maybe she can make you happy. And then we’ll...we’ll see. Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles,” George sobbed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just...just remember why you’re fighting. Yeah?” Charles got softer and softer, and George could barely hear him. “Before you run away, remember your God. Remember everything He has taught you. Remember why you’re still where you are and remember why you haven’t given up on being Catholic yet. You’ve stayed so long for a reason. And remember that I will never blame you if you choose the Church or your parents over me. Never. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” George said stubbornly. “No. Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, love,” Charles whispered. “I’m so sorry. I gotta go for a bit. I’ll...I’ll text you. Yeah? I love you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a brief pause before Charles hung up the phone, and even in that short moment George could hear him sob a little.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George knew this was as hard on Charles as it was on him, and he wished with all his might that he could take it all away somehow, but even the power of God couldn’t let him do that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he just let go for a bit; he let Charles be alone for a bit, and he let himself be alone for a bit, and he stared at the rooftops outside the window, dreaming of better days.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. I will always love you more, a kind of love worth dying for</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi again!<br/>This chapter is very heavy on the religion side, and this is where the inaccuracy of it comes in. I have also never done a Catholic confession before, so I'm sorry about the inaccuracies in there as well. Do note that I've sort of 'edited' some aspects of Catholicism to fit the logic of a soulmate AU, and I'm sorry in advance if it makes you feel uncomfortable or offended, do feel free to stop reading if that's the case. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy and do leave a comment or drop me a message on tumblr at geeeooorrrge to let me know what you thought! </p><p><a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4NRv3664N8qybsfKFpAcVg?si=TZ8bpso7SE-FV4Z0GGuykQ">Here</a> you can also find a playlist I made for this AU!</p><p>Here I'm just pasting the same disclaimer that I wrote in the first chapter, just for you to take note:<br/>I am aware that this fic takes very extreme liberties with the Catholic religion, especially in the later chapters. I'm not Catholic, and what I’ve written is only my own interpretation of the religion for this fic and by no means actual Catholic teachings or sayings, although I’ve done my best to research different traditions and teachings. It is an AU after all, a soulmate one at that, and I wanted to explore the relationship between soulmates and religion especially when one contradicts the other. So I hope you can understand that what I’ve written here may not be the true representation of the religion, and nor am I encouraging anyone to take up or renounce the religion or form any bad opinions about it. I have tried to be as respectful as possible, but if you feel uncomfortable or offended by it please feel free to stop reading at any time, or if there has been some grave sin (pun unintended) that I’ve committed in interpreting or presenting the religion you may drop me a (polite) comment and I can learn something too.</p><p>Thank you for your support! Also, take this as a birthday dedication to our dear Alex &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Charles had never really spoken aloud to anyone about his relationship with George.</p><p>His parents knew about George, but they’d never spoken to him, and Charles had never told them why. They usually let Charles deal with things on his own, anyway.</p><p>Charles didn’t know why he had never talked to Pierre much about it. A small part of him was embarrassed. A small part of him knew that if it hurt so much for him to even think about it, it would hurt a thousand times more for him to speak about it.</p><p>He went with Pierre to that meadow in the middle of the forest in their town, the place where they’d first met all those years ago. They lay side by side under a tree, looking up at the bright blue sky. </p><p>It reminded Charles so much of George. </p><p>Of all the days he’d spent in that meadow, thinking about where George was in the world.</p><p>“How is George doing?” Pierre seemed to sense something was up. Charles knew he could’ve gotten more information if he’d gone to ask Alex. There was a reason he was asking Charles instead.</p><p>“He’s getting married.” Charles decided it was best to rip the band-aid off. “His parents found him a nice Catholic girl.”</p><p>Pierre was silent for a long, long time.</p><p>“What?” he finally asked.</p><p>“I don’t know how to talk about it.” Charles tried his hardest not to cry, but he wasn’t succeeding. The words felt like daggers to his heart as he spoke them. “I know that – I know that every day, he fights himself and everything he believes in. Because of me. And I wish it would just stop. And I don’t know what getting married is going to do to him but maybe if he doesn’t know me anymore he can finally be happy.”</p><p>Pierre sat up and. And <em> glared </em>at Charles. Charles didn’t turn to him. He meant what he said and he wasn’t going to let Pierre convince him otherwise. </p><p>Pierre took out a chocolate bar and broke it in half before handing it to Charles, like a peace offering.</p><p>“He didn’t tell Alex?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” Charles said. </p><p>“Are you mad at him?”</p><p>“No. I could never be mad at him.” Charles wiped his tears with the back of his hand. “I just...it’s not his fault. But I don’t know how I’m allowed to feel and what I can say and how I can help. I don’t want to be the reason that he’s always fighting with his parents, but I don’t want to lose him, either, and I never know what to say or how to help him. I know that...if he gets married, then I can’t be with him anymore. It would just be unfair to the two of them. I just – Pierre, I don’t know what to do. That’s all.”</p><p>“What did he say? Is he trying to get out of it?”</p><p>“Maybe. He hasn’t met her yet,” Charles said. “But if he likes her...you know? I don’t want to make his decision for him. Maybe after he’s married, we can just move on and forget all of this ever happened.”</p><p>“Charles. That’s not fair. That’s not fair. I’ve known you for so many years and I know there was never one day when you didn’t think about your soulmate.”</p><p>“It’s just how it goes.”</p><p>“<em> Charles. </em>”</p><p>“Look, don’t tell Alex, okay? Let George tell him. I just – I don’t talk about it because it hurts so much. Just the thought of...of watching him get married to someone else. It’s not because I don’t trust you. It just –” Charles paused as his sob robbed him of his voice. “It just hurts so, so much.”</p><p>“I know,” Pierre said. “Charles. I know that you love George more than you’ve ever loved anything else. And I know that George loves you more than life. I wish it didn’t have to be so hard for the two of you because I’ve never met two people who’ve been more hopeful and faithful to their soulmate than the two of you. Just...don’t give up. Okay? I know it’s hard but it will only get better.”</p><p>Charles sighed. He just didn’t know what to say or what to think anymore. He didn’t know anything anymore. He started to cry again, and with how well he knew Pierre and his temper, he thought Pierre would just get up and walk away.</p><p>But he didn’t. He stayed with Charles, and he didn’t say a thing, and he didn’t try to stop Charles from crying. He just sat quietly, like he was wishing he could take away some of Charles’s pain.</p><p>“You’re not going to give up on him,” was all Pierre said to Charles. “We’re not going to let you.”</p><p>As much as Charles loved George, so deeply that it threatened to eat him up from the inside – he knew he would also always love Pierre in a way that neither of them could comprehend.</p><p>So he sat there with his best friend Pierre, whom he’d known for longer than life itself, and that afternoon, it truly felt like they’d gone back to what they used to be – just the two of them against the rest of the world.</p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>That Sunday, George went to church with his parents and his siblings. </p><p>While Benjy and Cara went home afterwards, George was taken to a small restaurant a three-minute walk away from church and placed in a chair next to a girl his age.</p><p>“This is Anna,” his mother said, and the hopeful look in her eyes was almost too much for George to take. “Anna, this is my son George.”</p><p>“Hi, George.” If there was any relief to George, it was that Anna looked like she didn’t want to be there, either.</p><p>“Hey,” he said. </p><p>Anna was a year ahead of George in university, but she majored in multimedia and digital art, close to what Charles was studying. She sported black hair in a pixie cut, and numerous ear piercings. She wore a dark green oversized t-shirt and dark ripped jeans, a stark contrast to the peach-coloured t-shirt and light wash jeans that George’s mum had picked out for him. Her eyes were a blue similar to George’s. When she smiled, she had a dimple in her right cheek, and she looked beautiful.</p><p>They had some nice Italian food for lunch, and George couldn’t wait to tell Charles about it. Their parents had met before and hit it off, but whatever George learned about Anna he learned from them discussing it over the table, and not from Anna herself. In fact, it seemed to be because she was actively avoiding talking to George, and not because she was shy.</p><p>Neither she nor George uttered a single word to each other beyond their initial greeting.</p><p>George was suddenly hit with the realisation that maybe, even if he were to abandon this wedding or this relationship, it wouldn’t hurt Anna at all. </p><p>She snuck out of her seat just as dessert was served, saying she was going to the restroom, but she hadn’t returned even by the time the ice cream had melted in George’s bowl, so he got up to find her. He didn’t mention it to his parents. They’d probably just think he was hanging out alone with Anna, which was a very nice disguise.</p><p>He found Anna on the back patio of the restaurant, curled up alone on a swinging chair, staring thoughtfully at nothing.</p><p>George sat in the empty swinging chair next to her. Neither of them took out their phones, so George suspected they were in the same situation with their phone plans. Maybe their parents had discussed it, even.</p><p>“So, Catholic parents, huh?” Anna said with a wry laugh, after almost ten minutes of silence.</p><p>George couldn’t help but chuckle. “Is Anna short for something?” he asked.</p><p>“Annabelle. But I identify as non-binary. I go by they/them and I prefer to be called Andy.”</p><p>George was unfamiliar with the concept, but he guessed that was a common occurrence for him these days. “Okay. Andy it is.”</p><p>“So that’s me. What about you?” they asked. “Why do your parents want you to get married?”</p><p>“My soulmate is a boy.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Andy said thoughtfully. “Yeah. As if being non-binary wasn’t enough, my soulmate is also a girl.”</p><p>George wondered why God put them both on the sort of path no one thought He would approve of.</p><p>“Andy,” he said. “Um, I just...you know that if we get married, we’re both going to be unhappy forever. I don’t want to marry you. And I just want to say that...I’m going to try to get out of it, and from what I’ve seen today I think you’re also going to, but I want you to know that it won’t be because I don’t like you. I think you’re cool. I don’t have anything against you. I just don’t want to marry you for the sake of being Catholic. I hope you can understand that.”</p><p>“Yeah, of course.” Andy gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “I hate this whole thing, too. But it’s not because of you. It’s cool. I get what you’re going through. No hard feelings.”</p><p>George wished his parents had been that understanding.</p><p>“It’s difficult, huh?” Andy continued. “You know...trying to be good to the world. To be polite to everyone.”</p><p>“Yeah.” George really, really didn’t want to cry, but he genuinely thought that besides Andy, no one in the world would understand exactly what he was going through, and he was suddenly so grateful for them. “They make you go for therapy too?”</p><p>Andy nodded. “I’m only an hour or so away. So it’s easy for them to check on me.”</p><p>“That sucks. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“It’s cool. I just think that...you know, the future can only be better than this. It can only be better.”</p><p>The two of them wandered a little further into the little garden at the back of the quaint restaurant, watching the butterflies in the rose bush. Andy had a mellow look on their face as they gently held a rose between their fingers.</p><p>“My soulmate’s name is Rose,” they said.</p><p>“Yeah?” George smiled. “Does she live here?”</p><p>Andy shook their head. “Luckily, no. She goes to school in the big city.”</p><p>“My soulmate does, too. His name is Charles.”</p><p>Andy sat down on the ground, and George followed suit. They took out their phone from their pocket. “I’ll show you some photos of her.”</p><p>Rose was a stunning, auburn-haired girl who stood taller than Andy in all their photos together. She had green eyes, fair skin, and freckles, and she looked at Andy the way Alex and Pierre looked at each other all the time. </p><p>“She’s very pretty,” George said. “And she looks like she loves you very much.”</p><p>Andy smiled. “She does. She really, really does,” they said. “Hey, show me Charles.”</p><p>In return, George showed Andy the few photos of Charles he had in his phone. There were only a couple of posed photographs, mostly at that summer carnival the previous year and when they’d spent the weekend of George’s birthday together. Most of them were candids that George had taken of Charles when they visited each other, when he wasn’t paying attention.</p><p>“He’s very, very handsome,” Andy said. “With those dimples. My God.”</p><p>“Right?” George couldn’t help his grin. “And he’s so, so patient as well.”</p><p>“So is Rose.” Andy sighed. “George. I think we’re both very lucky. In some sick, twisted way.”</p><p>“Mhm. I think we are, too.”</p><p>They spent the afternoon talking about all the aspects of their lives that they shared, and George thought that maybe, even if he had nothing else to gain from all of this, at least he’d found a new friend in Andy.</p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>George just couldn’t wait for summer to end.</p><p>He would sit in his room every day, holding his bracelet and texting Charles under the covers. He only went downstairs for his meals and to escape to the backyard so he wouldn’t feel suffocated by his parents, who took every available opportunity to talk to George about the wedding.</p><p>It was strange how the people who’d raised George, who loved George so much and, whom George loved so much could also...be the reason George wanted to give up on everything he’d ever known. </p><p>He went out with Andy a couple more times, only because he was made to. They spent the time just talking about Charles and Rose, and George gave Andy his spare phone because they hadn’t been able to text Rose all summer long, and the look of pure joy on Andy’s face was everything George felt and understood deeply in his heart.</p><p>He managed to spend a few afternoons with Alex, hanging out in their meadow, Alex facing the sea and George facing the greenlands. </p><p>“Alex.” If the wind blew George’s voice away, then at least he wouldn’t have to say the words that broke his heart.</p><p>“Yeah?” It didn’t.</p><p>“I’m getting married.”</p><p>Alex turned around so quickly, George barely had any time to react and almost fell on his back. “What?” he asked. “Did you just say you’re getting married?”</p><p>George nodded. “My parents found me someone. I don’t know if you know them. Andy? Our parents call them Annabelle. Anna. But they’re non-binary and prefer to go by Andy.”</p><p>“And what about Charles?”</p><p>George swallowed all his sorrow at the mention of Charles. “In February, I’ll be twenty-one, and so will Andy, and we’ll be having a wedding, and then my parents will forget anything ever happened and we can all move on.”</p><p>“George,” Alex said, grasping George by the shoulders. “<em> George. </em>”</p><p>“There’s nothing I can do about it, Alex,” George whispered.</p><p>“Are you sure?”</p><p>“You don’t think I’ve tried?” George fiddled with the clasp on his bracelet. “Alex. I love Charles more than I can even begin to comprehend.”</p><p>“What did he say about this?”</p><p>“He knows there’s nothing he can do. There’s nothing either of us can do. I just –” George sighed. “I’ve been hanging out with Andy a few times. They’re really nice and cool and really understanding. They don’t want the wedding to take place either, but their parents don’t accept their identity and their soulmate. So I know for a fact that it wouldn’t matter to Andy if I were to still be with Charles after we get married. But it’s just – it’s just so unfair. To me, and Andy, and Charles, and Rose.”</p><p>Alex was quiet for a long time. He just sat, shoulders slouched, and stared at the grass in front of him with a disappointed look on his face. </p><p>“Are you mad at me?” George asked him.</p><p>Alex shook his head. “I just keep thinking about how heartbroken I’d be if I had to watch Pierre marry somebody else.”</p><p>George sighed. He knew it wasn’t easy on Charles to watch him be this way. He knew. He knew that by marrying Andy, he would be casting Charles aside against both their wills, he would never be able to be with Charles again, and there was no way they were ever going to be able to turn back from that. And he wished every day of his life that he didn’t have to keep hurting Charles, but he simply knew no other way out.</p><p>“I’m so scared, Alex,” George whispered. “I’m so, so scared.”</p><p>“Are you sure you’re making the right decision?” Alex asked. </p><p>“I don’t have any other choice.”</p><p>“But what about Charles?” Alex just sounded so exasperated and confused and George felt so guilty for dumping this on him. “What about Charles?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I really, really don’t know. I wish I could give you an answer.”</p><p>“George.” Alex grasped his shoulders again. “Are you sure this is what you want? I know it’s to pacify your parents. But is that the most important thing to you? Your parents and your religion? Or is there something more important, something you want more?”</p><p>“Are you telling me to leave my family?” George sobbed. “Because I would. Alex, I would.”</p><p>“I just don’t want you to be unhappy for the rest of your life. And I –” Alex let go of George’s shoulders with a sigh. He gestured at the air in front of him. “If you decide – whatever you decide, I’ll be right here with you. I promise. Whatever it is.”</p><p>“What would you do?” George asked him. “If you were me?”</p><p>Alex sighed again. He lay down on the grass, squinting up at the slightly cloudy sky, and George joined him. The wind continued rustling the trees in the distance, and above them, a pair of birds flew past.</p><p>“I know this isn’t what you want,” he said. “I know you think it’s right. I know that. A lot of times, what you think is right and what you really want are two completely different things. But if I were you, George, I’d choose myself. I’d choose what I want and what makes me happy. Because I know that’s what’s going to take care of me in the long run. No offence to Andy, I’m sure they’re nice like you said, but a sham marriage that means my soulmate becomes an embarrassing third party in a relationship isn’t the way to go.”</p><p>The grass tickled at George’s ear, so he elevated his head on his arm. Two more birds flew above them, and George wondered if they were the same two birds from before. </p><p>He thought about how painful it was to be able to fly free from someplace and yet never really be completely free from it.</p><p>“If something comes into your life and it makes you want to fight against what you’ve known and believed in for your whole life, then don’t you see that it must mean something to you?” Alex continued. “If it’s making you want to reject the thing you’ve always believed in, then which one really matters more to you?”</p><p>George just…</p><p>Maybe it was time to do the one thing he always knew he needed to do, but had been avoiding.</p><p>“Alex. Can we...can you go to church with me for a bit? It’s okay if you don’t want to.”</p><p>They went to George’s little hometown church, just as the sun was setting. Alex sat with him in the pews for a while, watching as George prayed silently.</p><p>George was eventually pulled towards the confessional booth placed in the corner of the main hall. It was old and wooden and as small as George had previously remembered it. There was a priest inside, obscured by the center panel, and George settled across the shutters from him. </p><p>There were a few shadowy movements before the priest asked, “Would you like to confess your sins today?”</p><p>“Yes, please,” George said.</p><p>“Go ahead.”</p><p>George made the Sign of the Cross. “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been thirteen months since my last confession.”</p><p>“Tell the Lord of your sins and when you have committed them.”</p><p>“Last year in September, my life changed. In December, my parents found out because I told them. And since then, I have been angry and disrespectful to my parents,” George said softly. “I have been spiteful and I have done things, which they know and don’t know of, that would bring them shame. I have kept secrets from them and every day I live with the same shame they would feel.”</p><p>“Would you like to discuss why you’ve done that?”</p><p>“They want things for me that I know aren’t right.” George began to cry again, and he hated the sound of his voice, so weak and small as it bounced off the old wooden panels of the booth. “They hate who I am and they’re trying to change me. They think I’ve sinned, they think I’ve deeply sinned.”</p><p>“And do you think you’ve sinned? You must think you have, or you wouldn’t have come here today.”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“Why is that?”</p><p>George took a deep breath.</p><p>“I’m in love with a boy,” he said. “I’m in love with a boy, and my parents hate it, and they’ve taken everything away from me so I won’t contact him but I still do, and I still love him with all my heart and I see him from time to time and I love him. And I continue to see him and love him even though I know it’s not allowed. And now, they’re making me get married to another person whom I don’t love, and I know this will break me forever.”</p><p>“Did you engage in any sexual relations with this boy?”</p><p>“No,” George said.</p><p>“Then you haven’t sinned, child.”</p><p>“It just feels wrong,” George whispered. “To love him. It’s wrong. Right? It’s wrong to love another boy.”</p><p>There was a long pause from the priest, like he’d just realised this wasn’t going to be just some conventional confession. </p><p>“Who is this boy?” he asked. “A friend?”</p><p>“He’s my soulmate.”</p><p>Another long pause.</p><p>“The love between you and your soulmate is not any less spiritually valuable than the love you could have with a female soulmate,” the priest finally said. “It is a bond that God has created with His love and His grace. It is as strong as you want it to be.”</p><p>“And if I – if I have sex with him? Then that would be wrong?”</p><p>“Of course, normally that would be a sin. Do you feel sexually attracted to this boy?”</p><p>“Yeah, I – I do.”</p><p>“Because he is your soulmate, it makes things different.” The priest’s voice was soft. “God made you for each other. You are meant for each other and attracted to each other in every single way, even sexually. But it is not wrong to feel like you have sinned if you want to or have had sexual relations with him.”</p><p>“I’ve waited for him all my life,” George sobbed. “I’ve waited for him since before I even knew I couldn’t see green. I waited for him all this time and now he’s here and I can’t have him. I can’t have him and I can’t love him. I keep thinking about why He gave me this soulmate if I’m not allowed to have him.”</p><p>“God didn’t just give him to you. God <em> made </em>him for you. And there’s a reason for that.”</p><p>“What reason?” George asked.</p><p>“God created you and God loves you, and he created other beings to love you. Your soulmate is one of them. Your soulmate wouldn’t have been given to you if God didn’t believe he was right for you,” he said. “I know that it might be confusing, but you will be saved as long as you persist in what you believe to be right. If you believe what God has given you is right, then pursue it and you will not be blamed.”</p><p>“And if I think it’s wrong?”</p><p>“If you think it’s wrong but you continue to pursue it, then you will be damned.”</p><p>“But Charles is –” George sighed. He pressed his head against the shutters of the small room.</p><p>“Do you think the soulmate that God created for you is right for you?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And does it feel wrong to be with him?”</p><p>“Yes, but – but only because I was taught it was wrong. I don’t think it’s wrong. I really don’t. I feel more perfect with him than I do with anybody or anything else. And I know he was given to me, I just – I just don’t understand why God would give me something I don’t feel like I can have.”</p><p>“You have been taught lessons that haven’t come directly from God. Every now and then, what the Church preaches gets twisted and retold in a manipulative way. God will be your judge, but God will not condemn you if you follow the path He has so carefully picked out for you. By rejecting your soulmate in any way, physically or mentally, you are rejecting what God has written for you. You are turning away from Him. Can you tell which one is the bigger sin?”</p><p>George nodded, but realised he couldn’t be seen through the shutters. “Yeah. To – to turn away from God.”</p><p>“Then you will not sin by being with him, because you truly think that it’s right, and God thinks that it’s right for you.”</p><p>“And if I – if I have sex with him?”</p><p>“Child, that is between you and your relationship with God. You might have to accept that you are sent to purgatory. It is not an excuse for you to continue to sin, but because he is your soulmate, and only because of that, I believe that our Lord has His reasons for you and will judge you accordingly.”</p><p>Silence as George pondered over that. He fiddled with the hangnail on his thumb. It bled when he ripped it off, and George watched it.</p><p>“You do not have to renounce being Catholic,” the priest said softly. “You are a child of God’s grace and you will always be His precious child. As long as you try to be the best person you can, and keep your heart open and free of any evil, you will always be His precious child. The fact that you have come to me today to try and confess and make sense of all of this is an act of repentance itself. But if one day you do feel that it’s not right for you anymore, then continuing to follow our Lord Jesus wouldn’t be fair, and I truly believe that with His grace, He would not blame you for leaving.”</p><p>George sniffled as he swallowed his sob. “I – I have to choose now. Right?”</p><p>“You do, child. But from what I gather today, you have so much love and kindness in your heart, both for man and for God. You will be okay. I’ve heard a lot from people like you about their soulmates, but it never gets easier each time. You are not alone and I sincerely apologise if the Church has made you feel that way.”</p><p>Despite being a Catholic all his life, there were just...so many facets of the Church that George still didn’t understand. </p><p>He thought about the conversion therapy he’d been made to go for, and what they’d told him about loving Charles, and how they’d tried to convince him he had to change or he was going to hell.</p><p>He thought about what his parents said about loving Charles.</p><p>He thought about Andy, and how they loved Rose and yearned for Rose as much as George did Charles.</p><p>He thought about how he had spoken to someone who stood in the name of Christ that day, and he had completely changed everything George had ever thought about Charles and God. </p><p>And he knew that God loved him and God accepted him because God made him this way, but – a part of George believed that even if he had to burn in hell or dwell in purgatory for loving Charles, he would.</p><p>“Thank you,” he whispered to the priest.</p><p>“In our Lord’s eyes, you have not sinned beyond the fact that you have repeatedly doubted and questioned the path He has put you on,” he said. “What you need to do now is to reconcile your relationship with our Lord and remember that He loves you and He has given you people in your life who love you the same. Do not question His intentions and trust that you, your soulmate, and your relationship are products of God’s grace.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Do you have anything else to tell our Father today?”</p><p>George took a deep breath. “No.”</p><p>“I have heard penitence from you today about your sins. If you would like to be absolved, we can say a prayer together.”</p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p>“Please recite your Act of Contrition.”</p><p>George picked up the small worn-out brown prayer book in front of him.</p><p>“My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do what is right, I have sinned against You whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with Your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior Jesus Christ, suffered and died for us. In His name, my God, have mercy. Amen.”</p><p>“God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. Through the ministry of the Church may God give you pardon and peace. And I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”</p><p>“Amen,” George muttered as he did the Sign of the Cross.</p><p>“Go in peace to love and serve the Lord.”</p><p>“Thank you.”</p><p>The pews were still quiet when George stepped back outside the booth, with only Alex occupying them. George managed to give him a smile, and he looked absolutely delighted to see it. Alex had never been religious, despite attending the same Catholic school as George, so for him to sit in the church for so long waiting for George really meant a lot to George.</p><p>“Thanks, Alex,” he said.</p><p>“Do you feel better now?” Alex asked.</p><p>George nodded. Though there was still the same deep sadness within him, he also felt more clear-headed and free and he felt like he understood life a little bit better. </p><p>“You wanna pray a bit more? I’ll sit with you for a bit,” Alex suggested.</p><p>George just sat quietly next to him, drowning in the presence of God in the quiet, echoy hall. </p><p>God loved him, and God forgave him, and God put him on this earth to be with Charles, and George had never felt so lucky.</p><p>“Lord, I place all my trust in You,” he whispered.</p><p>George left the church that day feeling like a new person.</p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>George knew the last two and a half weeks he had at home were going to be the longest weeks of his life. The fact that it was just him and his parents left, with Benjy and Cara having already gone back to work, made it so much worse.</p><p>Three days after he’d gone to church, he took his outing with Andy as an excuse to go into town and recharge his minutes so he could call Charles at night.</p><p>Charles sounded delighted to hear from George right before dinnertime. George sat at his window and he looked at the purple sunset and he felt a sort of happiness that he’d rarely felt before.</p><p>“I went to church the other day,” he told Charles. “I went to make a confession.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Charles asked. “And how do you feel?”</p><p>“I’m – I’m not scared anymore,” George whispered. “To love you. Because it’s not wrong. It’s not wrong. I can have you and God will still have me, and there will always be space for the two of you in my heart. God made you and He made you for me, and He has his reasons for putting us together. It would be sinful for me to reject that and believe in other people’s false teachings. I love you so much and I was always meant to be with you, and I’m not scared to say that or feel that way anymore. If other people don’t accept it, then…then that’s just between them and God. I’ve accepted it, and this is who I am, this is who God made me, and I don’t care about anything else. Charles. I’m not going through with the wedding. And as soon as I can, I’m leaving this place, and I’m gonna be with you. We’re gonna live out the eternity we’ve been dreaming of.”</p><p>“George.” Charles’s voice was unstable, like he was crying. “You have to think about it first. Don’t do anything on impulse.”</p><p>“I’ve thought about it. I’ve thought so much about it, Charles, you know that.”</p><p>“George, love, it’s just – you’re scaring me with the way you’re talking.”</p><p>“You don’t want to be with me?” George knew he didn’t mean it that way, but it didn’t stop his heart from sinking to the ground at that possibility. </p><p>“I do. With all my heart. George, I – I can’t explain how much I don’t want you to get married. I can’t. It breaks my heart to even think about it. But I just don’t want you to lose everything else.”</p><p>“I won’t lose everything else,” George said. “I have you, and Alex, and that’s all I need.”</p><p>“George.” Charles sighed. “I love you so much. Do you know that? I love you so much.”</p><p>“I love you so much, too,” George whispered. “Love. I’m so...I’m so sorry. I know that it’s hard, with me. It’s never been easy for you with me and I’m sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t say that.” Charles sounded like he was sobbing softly. “We’re past that. Yeah? I just...I just don’t want you to give everything up for me because I don’t think it’s worth it.”</p><p>“You’re worth it to me. You’re everything to me. Everything I’ve ever wanted.”</p><p>“Just...don’t do anything you’re going to regret. Okay? Promise me.”</p><p>George couldn’t promise that. He couldn’t.</p><p>“I love you,” he said, in lieu.</p><p>Charles seemed to understand. He seemed to accept it, just like he’d accepted every other aspect of George since they’d met.</p><p>“I love you, too,” he said.</p><p>They sat quietly on the phone as the sun set outside George’s window, and Charles might not have said anything, but – Charles <em> never </em>had to say anything, and his presence would always be enough to make George’s heart soar. Because Charles loved him for who he was more than any God that his dad and mum had ever taught him about.</p><p>“George.” There was a knock at George’s door, and his mum opened it a moment later. “Dinner’s ready.”</p><p>George scrambled to hide his phone by sliding it under the table, but could only watch helplessly as it bounced on the floor and landed in front of his mum.</p><p>“What is this?” she asked as she picked it up. “This isn’t your phone.”</p><p>She went quiet when she noticed Charles’s name on the screen. She seemed to contemplate it for a moment, like she was considering putting the phone to her ear and yelling at Charles, but she eventually ended the call with a harsh finger. </p><p>“How long have you had this phone?” she asked George. “Where did you find the money to get it?”</p><p>”I saved up,” George said. </p><p>“Have you been in contact with him all this time?”</p><p>George pressed his lips shut. </p><p>“George.” Ma sounded so, so disappointed in him, and George couldn’t bear to look at her. “All we’ve done for you – it’s for nothing? Tell me it wasn’t for nothing.”</p><p>“Ma.” George tried to be firm, but his voice shook. “I love Charles. I will always love Charles. I was created by God to love him and he was created by God to love me. Nothing is ever gonna change that.”</p><p>“Did he get you this phone?” she demanded. “Is he forcing you into anything? Is he bothering you? Because George, there’s so many things we can do to stop that, so many things we can do with that evil boy, and –”</p><p>“Just take it,” George spat. “Just take it. You’ve already taken everything away from me. I don’t have any friends at uni anymore, no one asks me out for dinner or invites me to parties because they can never contact me, and every day I’m just alone. I’ve lost everything. You’ve taken it all away from me. So you can fucking have the fucking phone.”</p><p>Ma’s jaw tightened, as did her grip on the phone. “I’ll talk to your dad about this,” she said. “Come downstairs and have dinner.”</p><p>George didn’t want to.</p><p>He was suddenly just so <em> petrified </em>, and he crouched on the floor shaking as his mum left the room, leaving the door ajar. He dreaded having to talk to his parents again. He dreaded having to see the look on their faces and understand exactly how disappointed they were that he had turned out to be everything they hated. He hated knowing that they had never yelled at him and never hit him, and everything they did, they did with their interpretation of kindness and holiness, and with their best interests for George. They were gentle with him and George knew they loved him more than anything else, but they just gave George a version of life that he didn’t want. And George shouldn’t hate them the way he did, he was supposed to be grateful to them and love them back, but he just couldn’t.</p><p>And George...he just hated that Charles had overheard it. That he’d overheard George’s mum finding his spare phone. He didn’t want to worry Charles and he didn’t want Charles to ever taste what he went through at home, and to have him overhear that felt like the biggest failure in George’s life.</p><p>George picked up his usual phone from the table and texted Alex.</p><p><em> &gt; Can you help me to text Charles that I’m okay? </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> &gt; Please. Just tell him I’m okay, and he’ll get it. </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> &gt; Thank you so much. </em></p><p>Then he sat on the floor for a while, trying to catch his breath and stop crying. The sound of his parents’ hushed discussion floated in through the doorway, and George wished he never had to hear the result of that.</p><p>He went downstairs, and his parents were already sitting at the dining table, waiting for him. He sat down silently in front of his plate of chicken schnitzel, trying to ignore the sight of his spare phone sitting in the corner of the table, between his parents’ elbows. </p><p>Shame and embarrassment washed over him again, the same shame and embarrassment that came whenever George thought about how he was hiding practically his entire life from his parents, whom he had been so close to all his life. The same shame and embarrassment that came with disappointing them and constantly lying to them.</p><p>He was halfway through the schnitzel when his dad started to speak.</p><p>“You’re not going back to uni this semester.” He had that same voice again, that same calm voice that told George there was a storm brewing. His angry voice. “You’re taking a gap year, and you’ll stay at home with us and we’ll pray for you every day until you’re healed. This can’t go on. Okay, George?”</p><p>“No.” George felt all the air leave his lungs. “No. I’m not doing that.”</p><p>“You have to. It’s the only way. We’ll make sure that boy disappears from your life.”</p><p>“You liked him, didn’t you?” George asked. “When I brought him here, you liked him. You got along so well with him, dad, and ma, you loved him so much. I don’t get why that has changed. He’s still the same Charles I brought home.”</p><p>“That was before we found out he was a rebel of Christ,” dad said. </p><p>“I’m so sick of it, dad,” George whispered. “I’m so sick of it. You don’t know what you’ve done to me. You don’t know what you’re doing to me. You’re picking me apart every single day. And soon I’ll be nothing.”</p><p>“By God’s grace, you will be healed. You won’t be nothing. This is a sickness and God will heal you.”</p><p>“That’s not real.” George was breathless again. He stood up, needing to channel the sudden adrenaline in his veins somewhere, even if that consisted of just him storming towards the living room. “That’s not real. I’m not sick. I don’t need to be healed. That’s your interpretation of God and that’s not what He has taught. That’s your God. <em> My </em> God is forgiving and He has graced me with this soulmate and this path. This is what He’s given to me. And He will accept me for who I am because it is Him who has made me this way. I don’t care if that’s not what you believe but that’s what I know is right to me. And I will always go towards what I know is right and who I know will love me for who I am.”</p><p>“George,” his father said warningly, his chair dragging against the ground as he followed George.</p><p>“You are a child of our Heavenly Father and you will trust in what He has taught and you will repent for your sins,” his mum said. “God is great and you will not stray from Him.”</p><p>“I know God is great. I know that since I was born, He has loved me every day and He has taught me everything I know and forgiven me for everything I’ve done wrong. But – this is who I am. <em> This </em> is who I am. And if who I am is wrong, if who I am is a sin, if <em> your </em> God cannot love me for <em> who I am </em> and Charles can – then I think you know the choice is obvious.”</p><p>“How did our baby George turn out like this?” The disappointment and despair that dripped from George’s mum’s voice was thicker than blood, and it broke George’s heart, and he just wanted to curl into a ball and die. “You were such a good boy. You were the best child. You went to church with us every week and you said your prayers every night. You always listened to us. And then that boy came into your life and you changed. You’ve changed so much, George.”</p><p>“George,” dad said. “We can’t support this. You know that our Lord hasn’t taught you to be this way. And if you’re going to continue doing this, then – we can’t support you. We’re sorry.”</p><p>“Are you cutting me off?” George asked. “Is that what you’re saying?”</p><p>“If you choose to abandon the path we put you on, that we believe God put you on, then –” Dad’s voice was firm, and he paused only to look George straight in the eye. “You’ve abandoned us first, George. Not us you.”</p><p>“God put me on this path. To be with Charles.”</p><p>Dad’s eyes turned steely cold at the mention of Charles. </p><p>“Either you marry Anna in February, or you choose to live your own life, away from us. If you marry her, you can stay. If you don’t, you’re leaving.”</p><p>“Fine.” George turned on his heel, hot tears blurring his vision. He stormed up the stairs, and he heard his mum’s heavy footsteps chasing after him for a bit before she stopped.</p><p>“George, we’re sorry,” she said, crying.</p><p>“You’re not,” George muttered to no one. Pure, unrivalled <em> anger </em> took over every other emotion that dared to show up. He went to Benjy’s closet and found the biggest suitcase he could get, and he brought it to his own bedroom and stuffed the entirety of his closet in it. He took the little box of childhood mementos that he had, and his passport from his bedside drawer. He took two of his favourite books and three of his favourite car magazines. There was space for one small photo album with all his holiday photos with Alex. His laptop and charger went into his backpack along with the rest of his things.</p><p>Dad and ma were standing outside George’s room when he burst out of it. He dragged the suitcase noisily down the stairs, only turning around when he was at the front door.</p><p>“I’m not marrying Andy,” he said.</p><p>“You will if you still want us as your parents,” dad said.</p><p>George felt his jaw clench and his hand tighten around the suitcase. </p><p>He shut the door behind him and started walking, and he walked and walked and he didn’t stop until he couldn’t feel his legs and he couldn’t see his parents’ house.</p><p>He ended up at the train station at the furthest end of town, his feet sore and the wheels of his suitcase muddy. It was dark and quiet and the last train had long left, and George found a payphone at the end of the platform and called Charles.</p><p>“Charles,” he whispered when Charles picked up. “Hey. I – I left home. I’m at the train station. I’ll catch the first train tomorrow.”</p><p>It was all George managed to get out before he started crying again. </p><p>“George.” Charles sounded heartbroken, and he sounded tired, like he’d been staying up waiting to hear from George. But he sounded as calm as always, the same calmness that George always trusted would get him out of any ditch. “Love. Will you spend the night outside? Why don’t you go to Alex’s place?”</p><p>“I don’t want my parents to find me.”</p><p>“George, love.”</p><p>“I’ll be fine. There are benches.”</p><p>“I’ll try to come get you, okay?” Charles asked. “I’ll take my dad’s car. Okay? Stay at the train station.”</p><p>“I’ll just take the train tomorrow morning, Charles. It’s so late.”</p><p>“No. I’m coming to find you.” When Charles sounded like that, George could never out-argue him. “You have all your things, yeah? Take care of yourself. I’ll see you in a bit.”</p><p>“Charles.” George tried his best not to let his sobbing be apparent over the phone. “Could you just – could you count for me before you go?”</p><p>Charles’s counting was such a soft whisper that it barely even brushed George’s ears, but it calmed George down more than he could imagine. </p><p>“I love you,” he said.</p><p>“I love you, too,” George said.</p><p>They stayed on the phone until the minutes ran out, then George hung up. He got a bottle of water from the vending machine and took his sleeping pill, and then he settled on a bench, hugging his suitcase handle to himself and thinking about Charles until he fell asleep.</p><p>*</p><p>George was midway through the deepest sleep of his life when someone gently shook him awake by the ankles.</p><p>He twisted his sore neck to see who it was, and saw Charles perched on the other end of the bench, a worried smile on his face.</p><p>His wavy, overgrown hair covered his forehead, as if he was saving it all for one haircut at the end of summer. There was a light stubble decorating his jawline and above his lips, but he seemed younger than normal. He looked tired, but he smiled bigger at George and his dimples popped out and suddenly it felt like morning.</p><p>George sat up and pulled him into a wordless hug, and his hair was thick but soft under George’s fingers, and he pressed himself into George’s grasp and George had never felt anything more perfect in the world.</p><p>He still had a black brace around his left wrist, so George was gentle with him. But he hadn’t seen Charles in months, months that felt like years, and he couldn’t help but squeeze Charles even more tightly against himself.</p><p>“You look really nice, but maybe you need a haircut,” he whispered.</p><p>Charles giggled. “I like it this way. Maybe I’ll keep it.”</p><p>“Yeah. You look cute.”</p><p>Charles kissed him behind the ear. “How are you? Are you cold?”</p><p>George didn’t recall how or when he put his hoodie on, but it was on, so he was warm. He could hear vague sounds of birds chirping in the distance, so he thought it was almost time for sunrise. “I’m not cold,” he said. “Are you cold?”</p><p>Charles smiled like he thought that was the most endearing thing he’d ever heard. “I’m alright,” he said softly. “Um...George. I brought my dad. I drove here while he took a nap so he can drive us back. I...I hope you don’t mind. Sorry.”</p><p>George had never met Charles’s dad or any of his family before, and if he had one wish right then it would be that he didn’t have to meet them this way, but he guessed this was just how things were going to work out. “Yeah, I...yeah, that’s fine. Sorry about the trouble.”</p><p>“I drove him to the big train station nearer to your house and we couldn’t find you,” Charles said. “And he really panicked. So I think he likes you already.”</p><p>George couldn’t help but laugh. “Sorry. I forgot to mention this station.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it. There are only two stations in your little town.” The way Charles said it, full of innocence, made George smile.</p><p>Charles’s lips were nice and warm when George kissed them, and he smelled like coffee and tasted like salvation, and George. George just felt so <em> liberated </em> kissing him, he felt so complete and so happy and he forgot about everything that was waiting for him in the world he was going to live in without his parents.</p><p>“I love you so much.”</p><p>Charles smiled. He looked sad when he pulled away and held George’s cheeks. “George,” he said softly. “I’m so sorry about everything.”</p><p>“I chose to leave. It’s not your fault.”</p><p>“You don’t have to choose me, you know? You don’t have to choose me.”</p><p>“I know I don’t have to.” Charles’s hair was messy and untameable by George’s hands. “I didn’t choose you, Charles. God chose you for me.”</p><p>“I love you.” Charles pressed his lips softly on George’s again, lingering.</p><p>“I’m sorry that you had to come out here to get me,” George whispered. “It’s so late and you look so tired.”</p><p>“I’m fine.” Charles smiled. “Yeah? You’re okay, and that’s all that matters to me. We’ll talk about the rest later. Okay?”</p><p>“Will you get me out of here?”</p><p>Charles waited for George to gather his things, then insisted on taking George’s backpack as he brought him to the car, where his dad was waiting. “Papa,” he said. “This is George. George, this is my papa.”</p><p>George barely had any time to greet him before he was fussing over George and helping him to load all his things into the car and wrapping him up in a big hug. Then he bundled Charles and George into the backseat, made sure they were warm and comfortable, and started driving them back to Charles’s hometown.</p><p>The green digits on the dashboard of the car were flashing <em> 5:03 </em>at George as he and Charles fell asleep huddled tightly together, and George knew that no matter what happened, no matter how far away George had to run or how many times he was going to get his heart broken – as long as Charles was around, George would always have a home to go back to.</p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>When they got home, it was daylight, and Charles’s mum already had breakfast made for them. </p><p>She gave George a new toothbrush and some clean clothes even though George had a suitcase full of them, and she sat George down at the table and heaped his plate with eggs and bacon and pancakes as Charles and Arthur watched enviously.</p><p>George didn’t talk much at breakfast; he just sat there, listening to everyone else’s conversations. But he finished everything that maman put on his plate, and thankfully no one tried to bother him by forcing him to talk. </p><p>Arthur was the only person George spoke more than a sentence to, and even then it was only because Arthur was interested in studying digital art at the same university as George. George pulled Charles aside as the table was being cleared, and he asked, “Is there somewhere I can sleep for a bit? I – I’m really tired. Sorry.”</p><p>He sounded and looked like he was going to cry, and Charles could feel his anxiety bubbling over, and he wrapped George up and brought him upstairs.</p><p>“You can take my bed,” he said.</p><p>“I’m sorry. I just need a little nap.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Charles held his face, and George avoided eye contact with him, and Charles had a little suspicion why. “You okay?”</p><p>George nodded. “I just – everyone’s so nice to me, and I just…” He sighed. “I keep thinking...I keep wishing things didn’t have to be this way, but – it’s fine. I’m gonna be fine.”</p><p>“Hey.” Charles gave his cheeks a squeeze. “Hey. It’s okay if you’re not fine. Yeah? We’ll get through this together. Doesn’t matter how long it takes.”</p><p>George climbed into bed and let Charles tuck him in. Then he curled up into a ball, and Charles could only watch as he cried himself to sleep. </p><p>He contemplated lying down with George for a bit, but decided otherwise, thinking that maybe George just needed some peace and quiet. Instead, he went back downstairs and helped his mum with some chores. He told his parents more about George even though they didn’t ask, but they seemed happy to hear about him and didn’t have a care in the world about the fact that he just needed a ton of sleep before he could talk to them. </p><p>Arthur joined him for a bit in the backyard to kick a ball around, but Charles eventually gravitated back to his bedroom, where George was still curled up in the same position, fast asleep. Charles planted a kiss on his head, and he didn’t stir.</p><p>Charles took out his paints, sat at his work table, and began to paint.</p><p>All that was going through his mind repeatedly was the empty train station the previous night, where he and his dad had gone to look for George only to find out they were at the wrong station. All that he remembered was the paralysing fear that overcame him, thinking something had happened to George. </p><p>So he put all of that down on paper, in harsh strokes of purple and blue and the stark yellow of the lights illuminating the space that held nothing except the lack of George. The lines of the pillars and the track faded into a blur, as did the tiles on the floor and the bulletin board that popped out at Charles in its stark blue, a blue that was so unforgiving and cruel without the blue of George’s eyes to soften it. The only thing containing sharp lines, the only thing in focus, just like the previous night, was the empty brown bench in the middle of the platform. </p><p>Soon, the scent of dinner wafted into the bedroom, waking George, who sat in bed looking confused for a few moments. Charles waited until he noticed him sitting in the chair, then gave him a little smile.</p><p>“Did you sleep well?” he asked. </p><p>George nodded. He crawled towards the foot of the bed and leaned over to see what Charles was painting. “What’d you make?” he asked. </p><p>Charles handed him the painting he’d done of the empty train station. George stared at it for a while, his eyes wandering every inch of the paper.</p><p>Then he said, “I’m sorry for making you worry about me.”</p><p>Charles smiled. Somehow, the message and emotions of that painting got through to George, and it meant more to Charles than it getting through to anybody else. </p><p>“I wasn’t worried,” he said. “I knew you were gonna be fine.”</p><p>George finally gave him a little smile then, and he looked so young and happy in that short moment that Charles wished he had a camera so he could take a snapshot. </p><p>He stood up and went over to George, who wrapped his arms tightly around Charles’s waist as Charles leaned over and placed a soft kiss on his lips. His hands gripped tightly onto the edge of Charles’s t-shirt, as if he thought Charles would disappear if he dared to let go.</p><p>“Do you feel better?” Charles whispered. </p><p>George nodded impatiently, his lips eagerly searching for Charles’s again. He pulled Charles into his lap, so Charles was sitting on him with his knees on the bed on either side. He held Charles’s waist tightly against himself, and Charles gasped but he didn’t stop, as if he had finally found himself, he had finally found out what he really wanted, and now he was never going to stop.</p><p>They were both breathless when they pulled apart, and in the light of the setting sun, George’s eyes looked like the colour of the deep blue ocean, and despite almost a year of knowing the colour, it was still Charles’s favourite shade of blue.</p><p>“I love you so much, Charles,” George said softly. “You...yeah.”</p><p><em> You’re all I have now. </em>George didn’t say it, but Charles heard it. He knew George would never say it. He would never put this all on Charles and make Charles feel like he should take responsibility. So he would never say it, but Charles would always know.</p><p>So he took George’s hand and brought him downstairs and showed him that Charles <em> wasn’t </em> all he had; he had papa, and maman, and Arthur, and he had Lorenzo, whom they video called. He had his siblings Benjy and Cara, whom he texted to inform he was fine, and he had Alex and Pierre, who’d dropped Charles multiple texts asking about George. And not a single one of them was ever going to make him feel like he was alone. </p><p>George was much more talkative at dinner than he had been at breakfast, and he told everyone more about himself than they asked, but Charles enjoyed it because it was one of the rare times he saw George truly express himself. </p><p>After dinner, George helped maman with the dishes, and she was <em> delighted </em>. She told him embarrassing stories about Charles as papa stood behind them and chimed in whenever he thought appropriate. George occasionally turned and gave Charles loving looks as Charles stood in the doorway sipping his iced tea and eavesdropping, and Charles couldn’t help the goofy grin on his face, which was only interrupted by Arthur walking past and smacking him in the head.</p><p>They all sat around the coffee table for board games, but George sat out, choosing to curl up in a corner of the couch. He looked drained after all the conversations he’d had, but no one seemed to notice except Charles, so he grabbed George’s hand and pulled him aside.</p><p>“You wanna go sit outside?” he asked softly. “Get some fresh air? There’s a nice big swing in the backyard.”</p><p>George waited for Charles to grab a blanket, then went outside with Charles, where there was a nice two-seater swinging chair. They settled into it together, Charles sideways on it and George leaning on him between his legs, his head cradled under Charles’s chin. Charles left one foot on the ground to guide the swing, and George pulled Charles’s arms more tightly around himself, though he was still gentle with Charles’s broken wrist.</p><p>All was peaceful and quiet, and George only slightly fidgeted as he settled in Charles’s grasp. And Charles. Charles might’ve known George for almost a year, but he had rarely gotten to hold George this way, and that day, it just made him feel so peaceful. He had the love of his life in his arms, and there was no one around to stop them, no one around to tell them that they couldn’t be together, no one to take George away from Charles the next day. </p><p>Charles completely forgot about what it had taken them to get to this point; he forgot all their troubles and all the things they had to leave behind, and he drowned in the feeling of George in his arms and the scent of George’s shampoo.</p><p>He thought that this could be the beginning of their eternity.</p><p>Until he felt George shudder and realised that he was crying.</p><p>“Hey.” He tilted George’s chin to face him as George desperately tried to hide his face under the blanket. “You alright? What’s up?”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” George sobbed. “I’m sorry that all you’ve ever given me was happiness and all I could ever give you was worry and sorrow. I’m so sorry.”</p><p>“Don’t say that.” Charles gave him a squeeze, and he pressed more tightly into Charles’s arms, and it was Charles’s favourite feeling in the world. “That’s not true. I know that’s not true. We’re in this together, okay? <em> Together </em>. There’s nothing about what I give you and what you give me. You make me happy and you love me and you want the best for me, and I know all of that is true. And nothing else matters to me as long as you’re healthy and happy.”</p><p>George nodded reluctantly. Charles heard him swallow loudly. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m just – I’m going through it right now. Sorry.”</p><p>Charles didn’t blame him. He had just run away from home, after all. The wound was still fresh.</p><p>“Do you want to go home?” Charles asked quietly.</p><p>George had the most intense reaction to that. He flung Charles aside, as if he was suddenly afraid Charles was going to do something to him that he didn’t like, and the entire swing rattled. “No,” he said, terrified. “No. I don’t want to go home. Please don’t make me go home.”</p><p>“Yeah. Yeah, hey.” Charles reached out for him again, and thankfully, he didn’t decline. “Yeah. I’m sorry. I just thought – remember when I told you I don’t want you to give up everything just for me?”</p><p>“It’s not just for you. It’s for myself, too.”</p><p>Charles nodded. He guessed he had to try to grasp onto that, as well. George gazed at him warily for a few moments, then leaned into his arms again with a sigh. “George,” Charles said. “Do you...do you feel like I’m taking everything away from you?”</p><p>“You’re not. I know you’re not. I promise I don’t feel that way.”</p><p>The hinges of the swing creaked softly above them as they settled again, George lying on his back, his head resting in the middle of Charles’s chest. He looked warm and comfortable under their shared blanket and Charles just wanted to protect him forever.</p><p>“We’ll forget it for now,” Charles said, pressing his chin into George’s hair. “Yeah? We’ll try to get past this slowly.”</p><p>A soft breeze rustled the tall trees that lined the outside of the backyard. George nestled deeper into Charles’s arms, his hair tickling the underneath of Charles’s chin, and Charles closed his eyes and reveled in the feeling. </p><p>“You know that feeling of...of being free, but not really?” George whispered. “As if you’re free but only temporarily. And you’re constantly thinking of and anticipating the next doomsday. That’s how I feel all the time. It’s hard for it to just go away.”</p><p>Charles understood. That was how he felt whenever he was with George for a night or two, and feeling so happy and calm and peaceful, but knowing that the next day George would be gone again and Charles would be left with nothing but the scent of George on his clothes.</p><p>“I don’t want to go home. I don’t,” George continued. “It’s just...it’s where I’ve spent all my life. You know? It’s...it’s just difficult to let go. Even though I want to.”</p><p>Charles knew that no matter how badly he wanted to and no matter how hard he tried, there was no way he could feel exactly how George was feeling.</p><p>The best thing he could do – the <em> only </em>thing he could do – was to hold George through it. </p><p>So that was what he did, throughout the night and into the next morning; he held on tightly to his George, hoping to take some of his pain away. </p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>There were only about ten days before Charles had been expected to return to uni, and George seemed to be hyperaware of that, though he didn’t mention it. He just stuck by Charles’s side throughout the week, dreading the day they had to part again. Every night, when he knelt next to Charles’s bed to pray, he would hold Charles’s hand. And every morning, the first thing he would do was to kiss Charles on the nose and give him a glass of water, and his gaze would never leave Charles throughout the entire day.</p><p>Charles got it. He couldn’t imagine leaving George alone after what had gone down just a few days earlier, either.</p><p>George did seem delighted, though, when Charles’s mum packed a nice picnic basket with sandwiches and pastries and some iced flower tea, and sent them off into the meadow. </p><p>They had to make a short trek through the forest to get there, and George looked intrigued at all the greenery and wood surrounding them. Although Charles held on to his hand, it didn’t stop him from wandering away from the main path and dragging Charles along, if only to take a closer look at a little bush or some markings on a tree trunk. He looked like a child, fascinated and hopeful, and the forest seemed to sparkle around him. </p><p>Charles wished he could save this feeling in a bottle.</p><p>The meadow was empty as usual, and they settled under the shade of a tree and dug into their ham and egg sandwiches. George still fussed over Charles’s wrist, and insisted on opening Charles’s little mason jar of tea for him. </p><p>“Did you know I met Pierre here?” Charles asked.</p><p>“Yeah?” George smiled.</p><p>Charles nodded. “The first thing he told me was that he hated the sky because it was blue and it reminded him of his soulmate. And every time in autumn and winter, when all the leaves fell and everything became brown, he would get really, really angry because he couldn’t see anything.”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s really woody in these parts.” George’s smile grew a little. “I think he’s very happy now.”</p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>“Will he be joining us anytime?”</p><p>“He’s already gone back to uni. For football training.”</p><p>A long pause from George, then, “And when are you going back?”</p><p>Charles placed the cap back on his mason jar; the sound of it rattling was magnified, louder than it was supposed to be in the big outdoor space. He put it down as George looked over nervously at him. </p><p>“George,” he said. “Um...I have something to tell you.”</p><p>“Yeah?” George’s voice quivered.</p><p>“So you know...you know how I have a scholarship for my tuition fees as long as I play for the school football team?” Charles asked. When George nodded, he continued, “I can’t play for the team this semester. My hand’s not healed and I haven’t even started physiotherapy. So my scholarship is suspended for this term.”</p><p>George took Charles’s injured hand, gently, even though it didn’t hurt anymore. He stared at it for a while, and Charles could almost hear the cogs turning in his head as he tried to think of any way he could help.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” was all he eventually came up with.</p><p>Charles shook his head. “I, uh...since summer started, I’ve been looking for internships so I can get some work experience and some credits, and I don’t have to just sit out an entire semester if I can’t find a way to pay my fees. And I found an internship in an art gallery. It’s in the city you go to school in, and I got the email yesterday that they’ve accepted me.”</p><p>George’s eyes widened, then almost immediately softened into the warmest smile. “Really?” he whispered. “So you’re...you’ll be coming back with me?”</p><p>“Mhm. Your city is smaller so it has a better art scene. More niche, you know? I think it’ll be fun.”</p><p>“Oh, Charles.” George wrapped Charles into a hug that was so sudden and so tight, Charles forgot how to breathe. “Why didn’t you tell me you were applying?”</p><p>“I didn’t wanna get our hopes up,” Charles said, muffled in his shoulder. “And I didn’t know if you’d like that I’m always buzzing around you.”</p><p>“How could you even think that?” George sobbed. “This is the best thing that’s happened in this entire year.” </p><p>“If you’re alright with it, we can go back in a couple days, yeah?” Charles whispered. “And I can look for a place to stay. And if you want, you can come live with me.”</p><p>“I’ll...I’ll have to see. If I can get a loan from the bank.” George sighed as he pulled away and held Charles by the shoulders, looking him up and down appreciatively. “And, um...if I can find a part-time job or two.”</p><p>Now that George had left home, it also meant that the half of his tuition fees not covered by his scholarship would remain unpaid for – he was informed in an email he’d received a few days ago, and it had crushed him, because it meant that his parents had been planning for his gap year all along without even telling him.</p><p>Charles had been confused when George mentioned a gap year, but that email broke George so much that he had a panic attack and Charles had to hold him tight while he talked about everything that had gone down with his parents. So Charles already knew the terms of the fallout between George and his parents. About how they had been going to make him stay at home for a gap year and how they’d threatened to cut him off if he refused to marry Andy even though neither of them actually wanted the wedding to go through, and that was why George had eventually left. Charles knew all of this, but now they had to find out how they were going to deal with it.</p><p>George might be free, but he also had nothing to his name. </p><p>“I’m gonna be here, yeah? Whatever you need.”</p><p>“Thank you, Charles. For...for everything. Everything.”</p><p>“Don’t say that. I’d do anything for you. And I’d do anything to be with you.”</p><p>George smiled. He hooked his arm in Charles’s and rested his cheek on Charles’s shoulder. “I can’t wait to be with you and see you every day,” he whispered.</p><p>“Me too, love. I love you so much.”</p><p>George closed his eyes, and his impossibly long eyelashes fanned over his cheeks, and he looked so peaceful and Charles wished they could always be this way, sitting together in the little meadow, forgetting about the rest of the world.</p><p>“Maybe being soulmates isn’t just that you’re made for me and I’m made for you, you know?” George said, his voice soft, almost lost in the breeze. His fingers softly found their way between Charles’s, tenderly, as if he was holding Charles’s entire heart in his hand. “Maybe it’s also that I chose you, and you chose me, over and over again, since we met.”</p><p>Charles liked to think that was true.</p><p>So he did just as he had every other day; he chose George, and he held George and kissed George as they sat together in that meadow until the sun set, talking about their future.</p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>The city was nice in the summer; everything was tinged with a warm yellow, the sun reflected off the buildings, and everywhere they went they could see the blue sky, unlike in the big city. Charles seemed particularly impressed with it, and just like when they’d first met, he would keep walking into things and be pulled back by George. </p><p>He went to meet the owner of the art gallery the first day they were there, and George went with him. George wore the nice shirt with the anchor pattern on it that he’d worn on their first date to the summer carnival a year ago, because it reminded him of a happy time and he thought it’d bring Charles good luck. He sat in the corner of the coffee shop as Charles chatted with the owner at another table, and he sipped on his latte as he watched the love of his life try to be an adult.</p><p>Charles looked so smart in his dark plum sweater over a white collared shirt, and it brought out his eyes like nothing else, and George just couldn’t stop staring at him. His hair was styled casually and he was holding a folder of his favourite art pieces and he spoke excitedly as if he was there for an interview and hadn’t yet been accepted. </p><p>George was so engrossed in how broad his shoulders looked in the sweater fabric that he didn’t notice Charles walking over to him until he and the art gallery owner had stopped in front of him. </p><p>“George,” Charles called. “Hey. This is Giselle, my boss.”</p><p>“Hello,” George said, standing up but still too startled to act normal. “Nice to meet you.”</p><p>”This is George,” Charles said, taking his hand. “He’ll be staying in the apartment with me. If that’s really okay with you.”</p><p>George resisted the urge to ask what apartment he was talking about. </p><p>“Sure.” Giselle’s voice was cheerful and caring and everything George had expected from someone who owned an art gallery. “But as I’ve mentioned, it’ll be quite a squeeze.”</p><p>“It’s alright. We can work with one room.” Charles turned to George again. “Right, love?”</p><p>George nodded, just because it was the only thing he could think of doing.</p><p>“He’s very quiet.” Giselle laughed. “I have a meeting after this but you can come by in the evening to see the apartment. Do you need to move in tonight or you have it settled somewhere else?”</p><p>George’s things were still in his dorm’s storage room as his room got turned over for the new semester, and the rest of his bags, along with Charles’s, were in a locker at the train station. But before George could put it all together, Charles had it covered.</p><p>“We can come by after dinner, and if everything’s okay, we can get our things and move in tonight,” he said. “Is that okay?”</p><p>Giselle agreed and left for her meeting, and Charles nudged George back into his seat. He nipped some of George’s half-finished latte, and he had a big smile on his face, and he looked like a little child.</p><p>“What apartment?” George asked, wiping the foam off Charles’s upper lip.</p><p>“Giselle owns the apartment above the art gallery,” Charles explained. “She doesn’t live there. She mostly uses it as a storage space, but there’s one room with a bed that we can stay in. She says we don’t have to pay rent as long as I’m on my internship, we only have to pay the utilities bill, since she doesn’t use the apartment at all besides for storage. So it’ll be quite cheap for the two of us.”</p><p>“That’s very nice of her.”</p><p>“Yeah. She kept telling me it’s very small, though. But I don’t really mind.” Charles seemed to hesitate for a bit. “Um...do you mind?”</p><p>“I don’t,” George assured him. As long as he had a place to stay, and everything went well with the bank so he could finish his degree, and he had Charles with him – George would never mind not being able to afford a bigger place to stay. “Hey. Charles. I’m so, so proud of you.”</p><p>Charles smiled. He pressed a soft kiss on George’s lips and George was immediately overcome with the most intense fondness. “I’m so proud of you too, love,” he whispered. </p><p>”You don’t have to squeeze into a tiny apartment for me, you know?” George asked. “You can find a nicer one. I’ll figure it out with my dorms.”</p><p>Charles shook his head violently, and his hair flopped over on his forehead again. “I just think it’ll be nice if we get to live together for a bit. And it’s really convenient for us, too.”</p><p>“Okay,” George said. “Hey, do you know there’s a really cool antique bookstore near here?”</p><p>“Really?” Charles’s eyes lit up at the sound of that. He tugged on George’s hand. “Take me there.”</p><p>It was just down the street, and Charles’s energy hadn’t subsided one bit by the time they made it there. George held his art folder for him as he roamed the old shelves, running his fingers over the crumbling book spines. George went to the bookstore quite often because it reminded him of Charles, so he knew most of the books and shelves there, and Charles looked delighted as George explained all of it to him. </p><p>“You talk so much,” he cooed, jabbing George in the nose. “I love it.”</p><p>Charles just...always made George feel so welcome and in place.</p><p>They finished walking through the shelves, then sat down in a corner as Charles took interest in an old art history book. “Does anyone even buy these?” he asked. “How do they earn money?”</p><p>“Like, really rich people buy them,” George said. “Sometimes they travel from really far. And some books go off for auction.”</p><p>“Hmm,” Charles murmured. He immediately sunk into the pages of the old book and didn’t pay any heed to George’s answer.</p><p>George sneaked another photo of him curled up in that corner, under the dust floating in the sunlight filtering in through the window. </p><p>He finally looked up again about an hour later, and he looked startled to see George still sitting there waiting for him, although George genuinely couldn’t think of any other place he could be. He blinked at George, then at a poster pasted on one of the shelves behind him. </p><p>“Hey,” he said, pointing. “They’re hiring.”</p><p>George stood up and examined the poster. Charles put the book back before stopping behind him. “Oh,” George said.</p><p>“You could try,” Charles suggested.</p><p>George glanced at the front desk and saw the owner sitting there, instead of the younger boy George had always seen when he popped by. He went over to ask, and was informed that the job entailed mostly afternoon and evening shifts, when she had to be with her family.</p><p>George loved the idea of sitting between the shelves of old books all day, and he had always been gentle with them because he knew they held a lot of value and would probably mean the world to someone one day. The owner told him she’d seen him around quite often, and if he’d like, she could let him try out the position for a couple of weeks.</p><p>Charles seemed more delighted than George at that decision, and he was bursting at the seams as George agreed. He brought George out for a steak dinner, then bought a few nice shirts for George that George didn’t need.</p><p>He just made George so fucking happy, George couldn’t even begin to describe it.</p><p>Giselle was already back at the art gallery when Charles and George went to look for her; the gallery only took up the area of a regular shop, and the front three quarters of the space was the actual gallery space while the remainder was a small office and a preparation area. Either George just didn’t understand enough art to see a proper theme of what was happening in the art space, or there was some sort of minimalist exhibition currently going on that he couldn’t interpret.</p><p>The apartment was normal sized, but almost half of it, along with one of the bedrooms, was used to store boards, easels, foldable tables, and other materials regularly needed for art exhibitions. The living area was large enough for a small sofa, a table, and a TV, and it opened up to a small, L-shaped kitchen.</p><p>The remaining room had a window facing the street and had a double bed pressed to the furthest corner of the room. There was a small wooden desk and a wardrobe, and enough space for Charles to possibly make up his own art area. Giselle told Charles and George that they could do up the apartment any way they liked as long as they didn’t destroy anything.</p><p>They accepted the apartment and to pay the utilities bill, and Charles’s internship started the following Monday so they got their things and went back home, exhausted from all the activities of the day. They did some dusting and got into bed after taking their showers, and though it was soft and warm, George couldn’t help but feel a bit uncomfortable sleeping in someone else’s dusty sheets.</p><p>Charles seemed to sense it, for he said, “Tomorrow, we’ll go shopping for new sheets, yeah? After we go to the bank.”</p><p>“Maybe we can get a few other things, too,” George said. “You know...for the apartment.”</p><p>Charles grinned at him. He seemed as delighted as George was that they were going to get to spend all this time together and make up this otherwise unused apartment as if it was their own. “Yeah, we’ll maybe get some new cushions, or maybe some new chairs? Ooh, we can get new cutlery.”</p><p>“Mhm.” George couldn’t help but smile. “Charles. You’re sure this is what you want, yeah?”</p><p>“I’m sure,” Charles said softly.</p><p>They were quiet for a while, just curled up facing each other, watching the expression on each other’s faces. Charles’s eyes were hooded but they were alert, slowly taking in every inch of George’s face. Not a word was said, but George felt like it was one of the most intimate things he’d ever done with Charles.</p><p>Charles was just...he was just so absurdly handsome, and George had genuinely never seen anybody as good-looking at him, and every day when George woke up to him he felt like he had to thank God for the existence of this boy.</p><p>He just couldn’t believe that now he could be with Charles, and he didn’t need to worry about either of them having to leave the next day, and maybe as time passed, life could be normal again.</p><p>George had to close his eyes so he wouldn’t start crying. Charles held a palm to his cheek.</p><p>“George. Don’t ever think that I’m settling for less because of you, okay?” he whispered. “I know I’m lucky that I still have my parents and I can go to them for anything, but I want to be independent and I’m making my own choices. That’s how I’ve always wanted it to be. And I choose to live here and be with you. Yeah? I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.”</p><p>George nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered. </p><p>“I know we only have a few months here, while I do my internship,” Charles continued. “But we’ll not think about that. Yeah? These few months, we’re gonna be happy. Okay?”</p><p>George nodded again. “These few months, we’re gonna have a taste of what our future feels like.”</p><p>“Mhm.” Charles was smiling as his lips landed on George’s forehead. “Hey. Let’s make a list of what we’re gonna buy tomorrow. That’ll be fun.”</p><p>They huddled together in bed and took turns to type out their shopping list in Charles’s phone, until the excitement of moving to a new place took its toll on them and they fell asleep in the midst of their hushed whispers, their hands and feet entwined tightly together. </p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>George’s tuition loan application was straightforward and approved in a matter of days, just in time for him to pay his fees when the semester started. He hadn’t realised how wound up he had been before it was all settled, but once he had the letter and the loan deposited, he felt all the worry suddenly dissipate from his body. </p><p>Charles hopped right on it, and brought George on a shopping spree for new curtains, sofa throws, and little plants for their windowsill. Then they went to get some groceries so they could make dinner, and Charles refused to let George pay a single cent.</p><p>“That’s not fair,” George said when they were having dinner at their tiny table. “I have my own savings, too.”</p><p>Charles only shoved a stuffed bell pepper into George’s mouth, and it was delicious, so George didn’t complain any more.</p><p>He worked normal office hours at the art gallery downstairs, helping out with setting up the exhibitions, guiding guests around, and taking the boards down, but because it was only downstairs, he was always around, and it just made George so relieved. With his new phone number, he was invited to parties and out to dinner by his friends again, but whenever he could, he tried to come home early from his shifts at the bookstore so he could make dinner for Charles, and when the sky turned dark they would sit at the table under the glow of the single living room light and tell each other about their days.</p><p>It wasn’t easy at first, suddenly moving in with Charles and having to share their space and get used to each other’s daily habits, but George was beginning to settle into this routine of finishing his classes in the daytime, running the bookstore until it closed at dinnertime, then coming home for dinner and watching Charles do some sketching or simple painting until George fell asleep. He stopped going for therapy and he stopped taking his sleeping pills, and he rested better than ever before.</p><p>Sometimes, the art gallery would host special shows or classes, and those would be Charles’s busiest weekends. During the week, Charles would largely work with Giselle on curating the type of art they wanted to buy or borrow, conducting some valuation on art pieces, and making up posters. When Charles started physiotherapy for his wrist at the local hospital, Giselle kindly let him take some afternoons off. </p><p>That Saturday, neither of them had anything to do, so they stayed in bed until it was afternoon and Charles finally got up because George’s tummy was making too many noises and Charles couldn’t stop giggling at them and it made him want to pee.</p><p>But George’s hunger went right out the window when he finally picked up his phone and saw a few missed calls and texts from Benjy.</p><p>Benjy was the only person in his family he had given his new phone number to; not even Cara had it yet, and George wasn’t planning on giving it to his parents. Benjy probably hadn’t thought much about it when George changed his number, but George thought he might be finally calling to ask for an explanation.</p><p>George wasn’t ready for that, but he saw it as a responsibility he had towards Benjy, so he took a deep breath and called him.</p><p>“Hey, penis face,” Benjy said when he took the call.</p><p>It made George laugh. “Hi. Asshat.”</p><p>“How have you been?” Benjy’s voice had become softer, and it reminded George that he hadn’t officially told either of his siblings that he had left home, and had only dropped them a couple of vague texts. </p><p>Perhaps Benjy had learned of it from their parents.</p><p>He knew it wasn’t Benjy or Cara’s fault, and he felt guilty for putting them in the middle of this fight, but for some reason, the thought of talking to any member of his family made George slightly nauseous.</p><p>“I’m alright,” he managed to say.</p><p>“George,” Benjy said. “Remember when I told you that no matter what happens, you’ll always be my little brother?”</p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>“That still holds. Okay? That still holds. I love you and I support you and I always will.” There was a sort of sadness in Benjy’s voice. “Do you need any money? Anything?”</p><p>George shook his head before realising Benjy was only over the phone. “I’m – I’m good. Don’t worry about me.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Benjy sighed softly. “George, I – I’m sorry it turned out this way.”</p><p>“It’s okay.” George had accepted it somewhat. “I...it couldn’t be helped. You know?”</p><p>“Mhm. Hey. George. You need anything, you come right to me. Okay? Right to me.”</p><p>“Yeah.” George began to cry, and he had to bite on his lip so it wouldn’t sound like it. He knew he wouldn’t go to Benjy. He couldn’t. Not without it weighing on his conscience. “Thank you.”</p><p>“George.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I...I came home for the weekend. Dad and mum, they – they’ve been devastated, and they keep calling me, and I came back to see them. They wanna talk to you for a bit. Is that okay?”</p><p>“No.” George felt a sort of fear creep over his chest. “No. I don’t want to talk to them.”</p><p>“George, please. Maybe – maybe we can try to fix things. Just give it one more try.”</p><p>George refused to give him an answer. He was just – he knew this wasn’t Benjy’s fault, he’d just gone home to make sure their parents were fine, and they’d probably coaxed him into making this call for them, but – he couldn’t help but think of it as another type of betrayal from another person he trusted the most.</p><p>He sat there, fuming silently, until Charles came back inside and appeared startled that George was crying. “What’s going on?” he asked worriedly, cradling George’s face in his hands.</p><p>“Benjy wants me to talk to my parents,” George sobbed.</p><p>“Why don’t you?” Charles gently wiped George’s tears with his thumbs. “Maybe you can resolve some things.”</p><p>George seriously doubted so. But Charles was so soft and encouraging and kind that he gave George this little sliver of hope that he couldn’t find before. </p><p>“Okay,” he said.</p><p>“Do you want me to sit with you?”</p><p>George shook his head. He thought this was something he had to do alone.</p><p>The door clicked shut after Charles mouthed a soft ‘love you’ at him. George turned his back to it and swung his feet off the bed; the floor was freezing under his soles, and he tried not to let it get to him as he sighed into the phone.</p><p>“I’ll talk to them,” he told Benjy, who’d been silently waiting and had probably overheard everything George and Charles had said.</p><p>There was a brief knocking noise, then the click of George being put on speakerphone.</p><p>“George,” his dad greeted him, and his curt voice made George regret everything instantly.</p><p>“How are you, baby?” ma asked. “We thought we’d call you once you’ve had time to cool down. You’re...are you still angry with us? Have you calmed down a bit?”</p><p>“I’m fine,” George snapped.</p><p>“George, we know you were angry at our decision,” she said. “But it was for your own good. You’re a child of God and you have to act like it.”</p><p>George was...just so tired of explaining it over and over again to them.</p><p>“I’m still a child of God, ma, don’t you see? This is the life God has given me. This is who He wants me to be and who He wants me to be with. I don’t know how many times I can try to tell you this. Soulmates are God-given, and God gave me Charles.”</p><p>“Are you living with him?” dad asked. “With – with Charles?”</p><p>“I’m not telling you guys anything. I trusted you, I’ve always trusted you, but you betrayed me and you embarrassed me, and I’m never telling you guys anything ever again.”</p><p>“George – George.” Ma sounded so little and scared and George nearly gave in, just like he did the previous time when he’d told his parents about Charles. “Please come home and we’ll sort it out. We’ll figure this all out with a pastor and a proper doctor, and you can try to get better.”</p><p>“Don’t talk to me like I didn’t try.” George tried his best not to just completely combust in sudden anger. “I tried. I tried my best. I went to church and I went to therapy and I went to make a confession, and all of it only told me one thing. That I’m just the way I am and I don’t need any reason to be. I tried my best, ma. I had to leave because you and dad – you were constantly making decisions for me behind my back, and you betrayed me, and I feel like I can never trust you again.”</p><p>“You were going behind our backs too, George.” His mum was sobbing and it was tearing George apart in all directions. “You were in contact with him. When you told us you weren’t.”</p><p>“I was. Yeah, I was, but that’s different, ma. That was a decision I made for myself. It wasn’t a decision I made for you, without you knowing, that affected your life. It was a decision I made for <em> myself </em> , and you had no right to change it for me, <em> without my knowledge </em>, only because it went against what you believe in, and for no other logical reason. I can’t live under your blind religious control all my life. I can’t be your precious Catholic puppet. I can’t have you directing my every move and refusing to listen to my side of the story. I would rather die. You’re never going to see things from my point of view. So I think...maybe this is the best way for it to go.”</p><p>“If you think that threatening to cut off all ties with us is going to make us give in to you, then I can tell you right now that it’s not going to work, George.” Dad was firmer with George, and though his voice was steady, it was tense, and it scared George just like all the other times.</p><p>Except that this time, George wasn’t going to give in. He’d fought so hard and he’d finally gotten to where he was, and it wasn’t time to give up. Not on himself, and not on Charles.</p><p>“Dad – dad, don’t say, don’t even think that I ran away so you would give in to me. I don’t need you to give in to me. I don’t want you to. And don’t forget that <em> you </em> threatened to cut <em> me </em> off so I would give in to you. I’m not giving in to that, dad, just like you aren’t. I’m not. You can live however you want but I’ve decided that your way isn’t for me, and I tried, I really tried my best to understand it but I couldn’t. I tried so hard, dad, ma. I really, really tried. I just – all I asked from you was that you tried for me, too.”</p><p>There was a long silence that seemed to drag on for hours. George pushed the window open a little and watched Charles’s little plants dance in the wind. They calmed him a little, though the fact that his parents were still sitting on the other end of the line brought tears to his eyes.</p><p>“Whenever you want, when you’ve cooled down, come home, and we’ll talk about it.” Dad sounded more cordial, though it appeared forced. “Okay, George?”</p><p>“I can’t go home, dad. You’re just going to manipulate me and make all my decisions for me again. I’m not going home. I feel like I can never trust you ever again. Just – just cancel all the wedding stuff, okay? If you do it early enough, maybe you can get all your money back. I’m not going through with it. Just cancel all of it. Andy will understand.”</p><p>“George, please,” his mother begged.</p><p>“Ma,” George said softly. “Dad. I – I can’t be the person you want me to be. I know I can’t. I’m sorry. I have to be the person I want to be. I’m sorry that those two aren’t the same. I’m sorry that I let you down. I know you love me more than I can imagine. I know you’ve always loved me, but I –” George struggled to steady his voice. “I can’t be a part of this family if it comes at the cost of the rest of my life. I’m sorry. I know that you won’t support who I want to be and I’m not asking you to. I’ve figured things out and I’m on my way to figuring more things out, and if that means that I can’t call myself your son, then – then that’s just going to have to be it.”</p><p>“Are you still going to school?” George’s mum asked. “George. Don’t tell me you’re dropping out of school for that boy.”</p><p>“I went to the bank and they approved a student loan for me,” George said. “I found a part-time job, too. I’ll be fine. Don’t – don’t worry about me. And don’t look for me, please. I don’t want to talk to you and I don’t want to meet you. I’ll be fine and that’s all you have to know.”</p><p>Neither dad nor ma said a word after that. Not a single word.</p><p>George could hear his mother crying.</p><p>“Goodbye, dad, ma,” George whispered. He clapped a hand over his mouth so his sob wouldn’t sound over the phone. “I’m so sorry. I love you so much. Thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me. Everything you’ve ever tried to do for me. I’m sorry I didn’t turn out to be the son you wanted. I –” George squeezed his eyes shut. “Goodbye.”</p><p>He didn’t wait for a response before hanging up the phone, afraid that the sound of his parents’ voices would make him crumble into sand.</p><p>The room stopped caving in on George, but his heart was throbbing so fast, not only out of anxiety, but also out of a deep, deep sadness that it had to end this way. He dragged their new curved back chair to the window and curled up in it, his knees to himself and his feet resting on the windowsill, next to Charles’s favourite row of plants.</p><p>They still bobbed in the wind, and they seemed to dance to the sounds of the street below; it was usually noisy, but George had always filtered it out, so he never noticed. He watched the cars go past, and he tried to breathe properly again, but all he could think of was the sound of his mother crying, and how much she had loved George and how he had completely let her down, and all he could do – all George could do was cry and cry until he couldn’t feel his lungs anymore. </p><p>The sun was beginning to go down when Charles pushed the bedroom door open with a soft creak. He stopped next to George, warily. </p><p>“Leave me alone.” George didn’t mean to snap, but he felt like he had dissociated from his body and was currently watching himself have a complete breakdown. </p><p>Charles didn’t dare to touch George, or kiss George, or hug George. He just walked away silently, and the door closed again behind him. </p><p>George sat there until the sounds of passing cars below died down, and was replaced by the footsteps and murmurs of people walking home after dinner. Then he stood up, stretched his legs, placed the chair back, and went outside to look for Charles so he could apologise.</p><p>Charles was buried deep inside the storage space at the far end of the living room, his brace back around his wrist as he clipped a piece of paper between his fingers and used his good hand to look for the easels he needed. Once he was satisfied they were where he needed them to be, he put the piece of paper down and wandered to the kitchen, where he bent over to check the oven.</p><p>George went over to him and wrapped him in a tight hug as he gave a soft yelp of surprise. But he melted into George and he squeezed George tight and George felt like he was physically holding all of George’s pieces together. </p><p>“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” George whispered.</p><p>“It’s okay.” Charles’s voice was muffled in George’s shirt. He pulled his face away, but left the rest of his body pressed close to George. “Are you doing okay?”</p><p>“Yeah.” In all honesty, George was so exhausted, he was ready to go back to bed. But whatever Charles had in the oven was smelling heavenly, so he stayed.</p><p>“I made lasagna for dinner,” Charles said. It was George’s favourite comfort food, and it made him smile, which in turn made Charles grin at him, and push his hair off his forehead. “You go sit down, yeah? I’ll make you some tea.”</p><p>George sat on the couch, and he watched Charles pitter around in the kitchen, and he recalled Pierre telling him how lucky he was that Charles was his soulmate. George had never doubted it, not even once, but on that day he was just reminded of how strongly that fact would always hold true.</p><p>The lavender tea that Charles brought him was too hot, so George set it aside. Charles needed help getting the lasagna out of the oven, anyway, even though the bewildered and embarrassed look on his face told George he would rather not ask for it. </p><p>The lasagna tasted delicious, although George struggled to find his appetite, and he struggled to find the words or the energy to talk to Charles or even thank him. He just dug into his lasagna, and he wanted to cry again but he had run out of tears, so he sat there with his chest in a knot.</p><p>“If you want to talk about it, I’m always here, okay?” Charles whispered. </p><p>George peered up at him. He had a smidgen of tomato sauce on the corner of his lip, which George wiped off with a thumb. His cheek dimpled under George’s palm as he smiled, his gaze encouraging.</p><p>“Thank you, love,” George said.</p><p>For the great morning they’d had, that night ended abruptly and early. George was too drained to do anything, and he sat in the living room watching Charles do the dishes before continuing to look for his easels. Charles eventually gave in and stopped everything he was doing so he could take George to bed.</p><p>With Charles in his arms, George just...found it so easy to forget everything else. </p><p>He closed his eyes and fell asleep almost immediately, wishing that morning didn’t have to come so he didn’t have to physically tear himself away from Charles.</p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>George felt like most of his energy every day went into trying not to think too much into things. </p><p>He always used to call his mum at least twice a week, but since things had gone down that December, he’d been dreading his phone calls with her because she would always ask him about the therapist or pray with him over the phone. </p><p>Now, he wasn’t even talking to her, and it was more painful than anything that had happened before. </p><p>He tried to push all his memories to the back of his mind, and even though he loved flipping through that album of vacation photos with Alex that he’d stolen when he’d fled from home, it had some photos of them with George’s parents, or they would be in the background, and it just made George sad to look at them, so he stopped. </p><p>The parties he was invited to did help things; being surrounded by all his friends again did help George out a lot, because now he could focus on his life here and not on what his life used to be back home. Charles went to some of the parties with him, and all of George’s friends loved him, but Charles was also always willing to let George hang out alone with his friends.</p><p>Between living with Charles, schoolwork, and parties, George really had no time to think about anything else – but it was in a good way, and George was glad.</p><p>The week before Charles’s birthday, his football team came over to play an away game with George’s university. </p><p>Charles was really excited about it, even though George could tell he was trying to tone it down. Pierre had called beforehand, equally excitedly, as if Charles hadn’t already been tracking their games and scores enough to know that the next game was here. They were even making a nice outing out of it, managing to drag Alex down with them. </p><p>George knew it was hard for Charles, being away from his friends and his team and his campus, where he was so used to living and studying, and being thrust into this new world and this new job with only George for company. But he did seem to really want George around as he went out to meet them, so George rejected all party invitations for that weekend and went down to campus to watch the game with Charles and Alex. It was an away win, so they went out for dinner afterwards, although George did feel a bit like he was fraternizing with the enemy.</p><p>“Do you kinda feel like a spy?” Charles whispered to him midway through dinner.</p><p>“Why?” George asked.</p><p>“You know, like you’re gonna find out all our team secrets and then you’re gonna go back to school and tell all your friends.”</p><p>George burst into laughter, though he was lucky it was drowned out by the rowdiness of the rest of the team. Charles watched him, amused, the smile on his face growing bigger. The way his eyes crinkled at the sides when he smiled, the way he squinted so hard his eyes disappeared, the way the combination of his dimples and his soft eyes and his blush always made his smile look so shy – it never failed to mesmerise George.</p><p>“Maybe I will,” George said, and the smile burst into a giggle.</p><p>“I’m so happy to see you happy again,” Charles said softly, putting his utensils down so he could hook his arm in George’s and lean on his shoulder. “Thank you for cancelling all your parties for me.”</p><p>George was. He really was happy again, and he was getting his social life back, and he was glad that nobody had decided to leave him behind despite everything. Charles, especially. “This is kinda like a party, too,” he pointed out.</p><p>“Mhm.” Charles didn’t seem to care too much about the answer. Instead, he was keening upwards to find George’s lips. George obliged, but a few seconds later they were interrupted by loud whooping.</p><p>“Gross, guys,” Pierre called, chucking a small cherry tomato at Charles. It bounced off Charles’s head, and Charles pulled away with another giggle and a deep blush hanging on his cheeks. </p><p>“Speak for yourself,” he said, picking up the tomato and flinging it back at Pierre.</p><p>Meeting Charles was the happiest thing to ever happen to George, but – he didn’t remember ever being <em> this </em> happy.</p><p>The rest of the team went back to campus the next day, but Alex and Pierre stayed over and invaded the apartment for brunch on Sunday while Charles went downstairs to help Giselle prepare for that week’s exhibition. Then they went to the park with a ball, and Pierre and Charles played some kick and catch. </p><p>“Careful, love,” George called as Charles tightened his brace around his wrist and prepared to catch the shots Pierre lobbed gently towards him. </p><p>Charles turned and gave him a smile, and he looked so young and free in that little moment that George was temporarily stunned. </p><p>“You look happy.” Alex nudged him in the shoulder. </p><p>“You look happy, too,” George said. They’d talked about this for <em> years, </em> for years and years. Getting to hang out with both their soulmates. Being happy, even the slightest sliver of it. And no matter how many times they did it, no matter how many times they hung out, it would always feel as mystical as the first time. </p><p>“My mum is always asking about you,” Alex said. </p><p>George suspected he knew why. “And what do you tell her?”</p><p>“Just that you’re doing good.” Alex probably knew why, too. </p><p>“How’s Pierre?” George asked. Even though the last time he’d met Pierre had only been about eight months ago, George always felt like Pierre had fewer scars every time George saw him. Even the one on his cheek and the big one on his forehead that Alex had given him with his bike had faded a little. </p><p>“He’s good.” The biggest smile lit up Alex’s eyes at the mention of Pierre. “Football’s going great. He misses Charles, I think. But he’s doing alright.”</p><p>“He calls Charles all the time,” George said. “It’s so adorable.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Alex grinned. His gaze didn’t leave Pierre’s face for one second. “Something about him just makes me want to smash my mouth into his, you know?”</p><p>“That’s totally romantic and not disgusting at all,” George remarked.</p><p>“You say that like you’ve never thought that about Charles,” Alex retorted. “We all saw you at dinner yesterday.”</p><p>George laughed. “Fine. But I don’t go around telling people about it.”</p><p>Alex scoffed, but he left it at that. They sat quietly, watching their soulmates play with their ball. Their laughter littered the light autumn air, and George loved seeing Charles that way, smiling so huge his eyes disappeared.</p><p>“George,” Alex said softly.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Remember I said that no matter what you decide, I’ll always be here?” he asked. “It still holds, yeah? It will always hold. And I’m not saying that you can’t trust Charles or anything like that, but we both know that there’s always some things it’s hard for me to talk to Pierre about, or for you to talk to Charles about. And for those things, I know...I know we’ll always have each other. Yeah?”</p><p>George nodded. “Thanks, Alex.”</p><p>Alex smiled, and he nudged George again, and he gestured in front of them and said one thing that George knew he would always remember, that would always keep him grounded.</p><p>“Look,” he said. “It’s everything we’ve ever wished for. Everything.”</p><p>*</p><p>Charles’s birthday fell on a Saturday that year, but it coincided with a pottery class being held downstairs in the gallery which Charles had to help to organise and oversee. George tried to get him out of it, but eventually caved when Charles said he could just go downstairs and join in.</p><p>So George decided he would just be Charles’s assistant for the day, and he hovered around Charles as he set up the tables, arranged the rented pottery wheels, and put out the packets of clay, providing him with two extra hands for the one hand he couldn’t fully use. In the afternoon, the instructor got ready and guests started arriving, and George was forced by Charles to sit down at one of the tables so he could learn something. </p><p>George did learn a few things, but he also spent half the time eyeing Charles as he flitted between the tables in his little red apron, fetching things for people and answering questions. He did try his best not to drop by George too many times, for obvious reasons, but he did flash a playful frown from across the room whenever he saw George watching him. </p><p>For the life of him, George couldn’t figure out how to use the wheel properly, and ended up using the basic air dry clay to make his art, so all he ended up with by the time the class ended was a pathetic little excuse of a bowl that he decided to market as a key holder or jewelry holder. He took advantage of the fact that he knew the organiser to stay back in the studio and paint his little creation after everyone had left. </p><p>“What’ve you got there?” Charles eventually popped up behind George to ask, after he’d finished throwing all the dirty table covers away and was left with the one George was hogging. </p><p>“Hold on,” George mumbled. The paintbrush was way too small for his hand and he had to concentrate or he’d ruin his little bowl. “Two seconds.”</p><p>Charles sat down on a stool, and he appeared amused at how deeply George was focused on his little clay piece. He was still looking at George’s hands when George was done and lifted it up towards Charles. </p><p>“Here. I made this for you.”</p><p>The bowl George had planned turned out to be more splayed out and resembled a dish. He’d painted the top surface as a dark blue night sky sprinkled with stars and overlapped by a black city skyline, and the bottom surface in a green gradient forest with dark brown tree silhouettes. </p><p>Charles held it gently in his hands, aware that the top surface wasn’t yet fully dry. He had a small, proud smile on his face. “It’s beautiful,” he whispered.</p><p>“Yeah? You think so?” George grinned.</p><p>“I love it so much.”</p><p>“I didn’t know how to use the wheel. That’s why it looks so shit. Sorry.”</p><p>Charles set the dish back down on the table. “You don’t know how to use the wheel?” he asked. “C’mon. I’ll teach you.”</p><p>Before George could argue that Charles was just going to mess up everything he’d packed away, Charles had dragged him all the way to one of the pottery wheels nearer the back of the gallery space. </p><p>He sat George down on a stool, took a small lump of clay, and turned the wheel on. Then he took another stool and sat down behind George, his legs around George and his body pressed flush against George’s back. His hands wrapped gently around George’s, guiding them around the clay as they shaped it on the wheel. He murmured soft instructions into George’s ear, and the closeness of Charles, the intensity of the air between them, the almost erotic feeling of their hands slipping and sliding over each other – it all made George’s hair stand on end, and he couldn’t understand a word Charles was saying, and he couldn’t breathe, and he could barely see.</p><p>“Are you nervous?” Charles whispered, his breath hot against George’s cheek. “Don’t be nervous.”</p><p>George couldn’t believe he wasn’t doing this on purpose.</p><p>He twisted around to ask, but only managed to meet Charles’s dark, hungry eyes, which told him Charles already knew what he was going to say. His eyes darted to George’s lips and stayed briefly, then moved back to George’s eyes.</p><p>George...really did want to smash his mouth into Charles’s this time. </p><p>He strained to kiss Charles, and Charles obliged, his lips immediately parting for George. He let go of George’s hands, but his fingers were still covered in clay, so he tugged hard on George’s apron, pulling George so close that he was practically sitting in Charles’s lap. And George – George felt that same arousal, that same desire deep down in his abdomen that he had felt the previous two times he and Charles had been all over each other. When George had been too afraid to go any further. </p><p>This time, George just felt so...fearless.</p><p>Charles was the one to pull away, leaving his head pressed against George’s as they both tried to catch their breaths. “Fuck,” he muttered, though he peered up at George again, the look of burning desire in his eyes deepening. </p><p>“Let’s clean up and go upstairs,” George whispered, his slimy clay hands finding Charles’s. “Yeah? Okay?”</p><p>Charles leaned in to press one last kiss on George’s lips, though it seemed to make him shiver in anticipation. “Fuck,” he said again, springing to his feet like he needed a distraction. He started to clear up the space, dumping the clay into the recycled clay bin and wiping down the wheel. </p><p>They stumbled up the stairs to the apartment, a mess of limbs and tongues, crashing against the narrow walls until they got to the door, which they struggled to open. Somehow, they got George’s little clay dish safely and unbroken onto the table next to the door. Then Charles finally tore himself away and went to the bathroom to wash his hands while George took the kitchen sink. </p><p>That deep pulling feeling in George’s belly didn’t go away, and he wondered why Charles was taking such a long time, so he went to the bathroom and saw Charles repeatedly splashing water on his face. He was startled when he saw George in the doorway.</p><p>“Um, I…” he stammered. His face was flushed pink. “I – could you maybe uh...stay out of the bathroom for a while? Maybe just – just for five minutes.”</p><p>George’s gaze wandered downwards until he saw the tent in Charles’s jeans that matched the one in his own. Charles didn’t seem to notice, but George thought that maybe Charles’s request had something to do with that.</p><p>“Have you ever…” George wished Charles knew the last part of his question. “You know...done it?”</p><p>The blush on Charles’s cheeks deepened, and he looked like a little red tomato, and George adored it. “Not...not with other people,” he said.</p><p>“With yourself?” George asked. </p><p>“I...yeah.” Charles made a vague jerking off motion with his hand. He looked shy and embarrassed and George didn’t think he could get any redder, but he did. “Yeah.”</p><p>“Do you wanna...you know?” George made the same hand motion that Charles did. “Just with our hands.”</p><p>“Really?” Charles asked. He took a few steps towards George. “Have you...have you ever…?”</p><p>George shook his head. “I...not...not even with myself. Yeah.”</p><p>“But you really want this?”</p><p>George nodded. He tried his hardest not to let his gaze flit downwards again, but failed, and saw Charles’s gaze follow his. “I – you know, don’t you think it’s kinda obvious?”</p><p>Charles was grinning by the time his lips landed on George’s, and he was nudging George out of the bathroom and towards the bed, although he stopped to say, “I know this is very unsexy of me, but I need to put my brace on because the doctor said it has to be on during physical activity.”</p><p>George burst into laughter. Charles just. He had this natural ability to make any tense or nervous situation so much lighter. “Okay,” he said. “We don’t want you spraining your wrist again and having to explain why.”</p><p>Charles tutted at him, and then when he was done fastening his velcro brace, pushed George down on the bed and climbed over him. “You’re really sure about this, love?” he whispered.</p><p>“Yeah.” George hadn’t felt comfortable about this before – he had <em> never </em> felt comfortable about it before, he had never thought that having any sort of sexual activity with Charles would ever make him comfortable at all, but this time he felt so brave, and he felt so free, and he felt like in that moment, this was going to be the only way he could channel all his love for Charles. </p><p>“If you’re uncomfortable, we’ll just stop. Okay? Just tell me and we’ll stop.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“I just want you to know that we don’t have to do this at all, and I’ll still love you the same. Yeah?”</p><p>George nodded. “Just shut the fuck up and make me come, Charles.”</p><p>“Mm.” Charles pressed a quick kiss to George’s lips. “That’s so fucking hot.”</p><p>They were a mess of limbs again as they took off all their clothes, but Charles was so gentle with George, he was so <em> gentle </em>, his hands were so soft and they caressed George’s skin like the wind, and when he wrapped his fingers around George’s dick it was the first time anyone had ever held George that way. He kept stopping to check on George and making sure he was comfortable, and he had this soft smile on his face that just wouldn’t go away no matter how much George kissed him, and George just.</p><p>Even if Charles hadn’t been his soulmate, even if soulmates didn’t exist – George couldn’t imagine himself ever loving anyone else the same. </p><p>“Do you wanna switch?” he asked, after seeing Charles struggle a bit to balance on his left arm. “We can switch.”</p><p>So they switched, and George – Charles just felt so <em> good </em> being clamped down by George, and the contours of his strong biceps and his muscled abdomen felt so good under George’s palms, and the way he looked up at George, his lips slightly parted, was so eager and hungry that George just wanted to devour him whole. </p><p>He shivered and gasped, though, when George held both their lengths together, and he giggled against George’s lips. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Your hand – your hand is freezing. Sorry. Are you okay? You’re freezing.”</p><p>George was a little nervous, but he was fine. “Yeah, I’m okay,” he said. “Maybe – maybe I won’t...touch you there.”</p><p>Charles giggled again. He pulled George closer to him, his arms wrapped tightly around George’s waist. He nudged his hips upwards, and the chill it sent up George’s spine was almost blinding. “Just move your hips, yeah?” Charles whispered. “Doesn’t matter how. Just move them.”</p><p>They just settled with thrusting against each other’s thighs, and although the velcro of Charles’s brace scratching against George’s back was hurting a bit, it was soon drowned out by the sound of their hips hitting each other’s, and George was just drowning in it; he was drowning in the feeling, in the sounds Charles was making and the tight grip his right hand had on George’s bicep, in the sweat that lined Charles’s brow and his upper lip, and he was obsessed with the look on Charles’s face, his eyes so intense and yet so full of love as he gazed up at George. His feet were struggling for traction behind George, and his thigh moved further up between George’s legs as he did so, and George – all his thoughts just went straight out of his head, and he genuinely didn’t think he had ever felt such physical happiness in his life.</p><p>And maybe because it was their first time with each other, but it took them practically no time at all. Charles came first, his hips stuttering against George as he craned his head back on the pillow, exposing his entire neck for George to nibble on. But even as he was deep in the throes of his orgasm, his hand still searched for George, and it still grabbed both their dicks in a single grasp and started jerking them both off together; even in his deepest moments of passion Charles still thought of giving George the same, and eventually this was what sent George over the edge.</p><p>It was unlike anything George had ever felt before; it shook George to his core, it shook his entire body, and he collapsed on Charles, murmuring embarrassing, incoherent things into Charles’s ear, gasping for air and clutching at nothing. He tugged on Charles’s hair, and it made Charles moan again, and George honestly thought his orgasm would never end. </p><p>“Fuck,” he sighed, shuddering on top of Charles. “Holy fuck.”</p><p>“Hmm,” was Charles’s lazy contribution. He pried his hand out from between their bodies and wiped all the come off on the sheets. “Don’t say holy like that.”</p><p>George laughed, but it did remind him of everything he thought he would never go against.</p><p>Sometimes – some days, it was hard for him to accept who he was. It was still hard, battling the feeling that loving Charles was a sin.</p><p>He propped himself up on his elbows to look into Charles’s eyes, and he felt those familiar feelings of guilt and slight disgust creep up on him, but he persisted; he watched Charles’s eyes move and glow with happiness until all the bad feelings retreated in fear, and George was left with nothing but pure happiness.</p><p>It was silly, but George thought that this felt somehow like he had crossed a personal milestone in his life. </p><p>From being afraid to love Charles when they’d first met, from thinking it was a sin, from fighting his feelings every single day, to this – George really had come so far, and what they’d just done together, it just made him so, so happy, and it was so cathartic.</p><p>“What?” Charles mouthed, and George realised he’d just been watching him, a concerned look on his face. </p><p>George shook his head. “Just thinking.”</p><p>Charles smiled. “Good thinking or bad thinking?”</p><p>“Good thinking.”</p><p>Charles’s fingertips were soft but sticky as they drummed down the side of George’s face. “Okay,” he whispered. </p><p>George pressed his lips on Charles’s, and when Charles inhaled deeply, George felt his entire soul get sucked out of him and into Charles’s body just so it could be with Charles’s. </p><p>“You doing okay?” Charles asked, his fingers carding soothingly through George’s hair.</p><p>“Yeah,” George whispered. “Charles. Happy birthday. I love you so, so much.”</p><p>“Just happy?” Charles gave a contented sigh as his head dropped on the pillow again. “Oh, you have no idea, George.”</p><p>George smiled. “It was fun. We should do it again sometime.”</p><p>Charles laughed. “Deal,” he said. He wrapped his arms around George again, his hand pressing George’s face close to his cheek. He placed a loud smooch on George’s shoulder. “I love you so much.”</p><p>“Me, too.”</p><p>“I know it’s not a big deal to anyone else, but I know it means a lot to you, and – I’m just so proud of you, love. I’m so proud of you, and thank you for trusting me.”</p><p>“Thank you. I love you.” George pressed a kiss to Charles’s dimple. “I just – I just don’t want this semester to end so you don’t have to leave.”</p><p>Charles gave George a squeeze. “We’ll think about that next time. Yeah? We’ll deal with what we have right now.”</p><p>George nodded. “C’mon, let’s go wash up. We can have some cake, and I got you a present.”</p><p>That spurred Charles immediately, and they took quick showers, then Charles sat eagerly at the kitchen table waiting for George to bring him his cake and his present. </p><p>“Is this a wedding cake?” Charles giggled, pointing at the figurine of two men in suits that was stuck on top of it. “You got me a tiny wedding cake?” </p><p>George had actually bought the figurine separately and stuck it there because he’d thought Charles would enjoy it. “I know you’re not the nice Catholic girl that I always thought you’d be,” he said. “But I love you all the same. And one day, I’m going to marry you.”</p><p>“George,” Charles whispered. He reached for George’s hand and wound their fingers together. “Promise?”</p><p>“Promise.”</p><p>George sang a birthday song for him, and before he blew out his candle he clasped his hands and made a wish, and although he didn’t say it aloud, George thought maybe he had an idea of what Charles had wished for. </p><p>Charles looked like a little boy at Christmas as he unwrapped his gift, a small Japanese paint set that he could easily bring anywhere. He insisted that the pathetic clay bowl George had made downstairs was enough, but the excited look on his face and the way he hugged it to himself told George he appreciated it otherwise. </p><p>They finished the small vanilla lemon cream cake between them, then danced around the living room until they crashed from their sugar high and collapsed back in bed, giggling. </p><p>“This is the best birthday of my life,” was Charles’s final murmur before he started drifting to sleep. </p><p>“So far,” George reminded him. </p><p>“Promise.”</p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>They fell asleep curled up tightly, just like the way their hearts were intertwined with that promise. </p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>With George’s looming finals came the dreaded fact that just in a couple of months, they wouldn’t be living together any longer. </p><p>But George didn’t mention it, and Charles didn’t know how to talk about it and he didn’t want to think about it, so they skirted around the topic. Charles spent most of his free time watching George from the bed, hunched over the little work table they shared, flipping through his notes or working on his computer late into the night. Charles would make him tea and he would forget to drink it, and sometimes Charles didn’t remember him even climbing into bed in the night. </p><p>But every evening that Charles was working – every single evening, George would bring him dinner, regardless of whether he cooked it or went out to buy it for the both of them, and every evening, he would eat with Charles before continuing to work.</p><p>Charles had never gone to school with George before, and it really was an experience, watching him cram the way he did. Charles worried about him, but he knew that George wouldn’t listen, and he knew by now that once George had his heart set on something, nothing and no one would be able to stop him. Besides, that semester seemed to be particularly important to him, as if he was trying to prove something to himself or his parents.</p><p>It was a relief for the both of them once George was done with his finals. He came back home to the apartment through the art gallery while Charles was sitting in the office overseeing an exhibition, his backpack straining his shoulders and his eyebags heavier than ever before. He trudged into the back office and pressed a long kiss to Charles’s lips without a single word, then dragged his feet upstairs. </p><p>After work, Charles found him sprawled out on his stomach in bed, his cheek pressed deeply into his pillow and his mouth wide open as he snored softly. He was still in the same position when Charles came out of the shower, so he lifted one of George’s arms and crawled under it.</p><p>“Hmm,” George murmured sleepily, pulling Charles close to him without opening his eyes. “Hi.”</p><p>“Hey, you.” Charles tapped him on the nose.</p><p>He didn’t respond, so he’d probably fallen back asleep. So Charles spent the rest of the night holding him and pushing his hair out of his eyes, and it gave him a sort of peace in his heart that he never wanted to forget.</p><p>*</p><p>There wasn’t much room for a Christmas tree in their little storage room-cum-apartment, and they were moving out of it in a few weeks, anyway – but Giselle was nice enough to let them put up a Christmas tree in the front window of the gallery. </p><p>The old one they dug out from the dustiest corners of the apartment was falling apart, so George and Charles headed out excitedly to get a new one, along with some ornaments. They sat on the floor unraveling the plain white lights for the tree, then opened their new ornaments. </p><p>“Let’s put them up like a rainbow,” Charles suggested. “We’ll put the red ones on top and then go down until we get to the blue ones.”</p><p>“I don’t know how to do that,” George said, but he opened a box of glittery red baubles and held it up to Charles. “You do it.”</p><p>Charles circled the tree slowly, hanging up whichever colour ornament that George held up to him. He went from red ones to orange ones, to yellow and gold ones, then to green and teal ones, and the wintery blue ones. Finally, the white snowflakes and transparent baubles hung off the bottom of the tree. Then George placed the angel tree topper on top of the tree, but not without teasing Charles that he only had to do it because Charles was too small to reach it.</p><p>After several minutes of Charles chasing him around the gallery with a bunch of tinsel, George thought they needed some presents to put below the tree, so they found some old cardboard boxes and wrapped them up. Then George pulled out a little paper bag that he’d been hiding among all the other ornaments, and passed it to Charles.</p><p>Inside were two more hanging ornaments – they were custom-made, flat, wooden ornaments with round frames in the shape of baubles, and their names carved out from the middle in cursive letters. Little five-point stars were carved out around their names. It seemed fragile as Charles held it in his hand, afraid that a star or a letter was going to fall off from the main frame.</p><p>“I got this made for us. It’s our first real Christmas together, alone, and we’ll put them up on this tree,” George said softly. “And every year, every Christmas we’re going to have together, we’ll put them up on our tree together. Yours and mine. It doesn’t matter if it breaks or we lose it when we move. We’ll just get new ones. As long as there’s one for you and one for me, and we can put them up together.”</p><p>Charles smiled at the thought that they were going to do this for years and years to come. “I love that. Thank you.”</p><p>“Charles, it’s been a year since...you know.” It still hurt George to talk about that day he’d come out to his parents, and Charles could see it in his eyes. “I know that – I know that since we met, I’ve never really made you feel like we should be together, or that I want you and I love you. I’ve pushed you away so many times. But I love you, I’ve always loved you, and I’m sorry I wasted all that time and I’m sorry that you had to go through everything you did because of me. No matter what happened, you were always there, and you never gave up on me, and I just – I just want so badly to show you that I want to do the same for you for the rest of our lives.”</p><p>“Don’t say that. You have. You’ve always made me feel like you love me,” Charles whispered. “George. You gave up everything for me even though I didn’t ask, you went through so much just to be with me, and I – I don’t think I could ever ask for anything more than just to be by your side.”</p><p>A small smile crept across George’s face. He slid his fingers into Charles’s hair, his smile growing when Charles keened into his grasp. “I love you,” he said.</p><p>“I love you, George. I –” Charles sighed. “George, I’ve always wanted to say this, but I just didn’t want to make you mad. So many times before, you could’ve just walked away. It would’ve been so much easier for you if you’d just walked away. But you didn’t, you chose to be with me, and I – I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you had to go through all that pain, that you had to suffer so much, that you had to give up everything, just for me. I’m sorry.”</p><p>“You could’ve walked away, too,” George said softly. “You could’ve walked away. And you didn’t.”</p><p>“I never would have. I’d always choose you. Like you said, maybe we’re soulmates because we choose each other over and over again.”</p><p>George pulled him into a hug, and suddenly they were both crying, shaking softly in each other’s arms, the weight of the world finally crashing down on them, even though Charles was sure the worst had already passed, that they were finally crawling out of the hole they’d been thrown in. </p><p>Sometimes, just the thought that Charles had almost lost George, the thought that he had to send George off to get married to another person – it shattered Charles’s heart all over again, although he knew that it wasn’t real anymore.</p><p>He knew it did the same to George. To think that they’d almost slipped through each other’s fingers like sand.</p><p>“We’ll just leave it at that, okay?” George whispered into Charles’s hair. “We’ll leave it. It’s all in the past. I’m sorry, and you’re sorry, but I love you, and I know you love me, and nothing else matters.”</p><p>Charles nodded. It was the end of the year, after all, and it had been one of the worst years in Charles’s life, if not the worst. He was pretty sure George felt the same way about it. So although the New Year was just some arbitrary date, Charles hoped that it would bring more happiness for the two of them, and they could leave everything back in this shitty year.</p><p>They hung up their new ornaments in a hidden corner of the Christmas tree, just for themselves. Then they turned on the fairy lights and sat at the window, watching people go by and live their own lives; they sat under the silver lights and the watchful eyes of the Christmas angel, and they talked about all the things they were going to do together.</p><p>*</p><p>George might’ve run away from his family, but he still did his prayers every night, and even though he’d stopped going for Sunday Mass, he still went to church a few times a month, just to sit in the pews.</p><p>So on Christmas Eve, when George wanted to go for Midnight Mass, Charles went with him.</p><p>He knew it meant a lot to George, even though George rarely spoke about it. He knew that since he’d met Charles, George’s relationship with God had become more and more complicated, and he didn’t want to influence that any more than he already did. So whatever George wanted to do, Charles followed.</p><p>That night, George put on a smart sky blue shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and his eyes jumped out at Charles, and Charles just couldn’t stop looking at him, and he couldn’t concentrate on anything he was doing. </p><p>“Is this good for church?” George asked, examining himself in the mirror. He turned to Charles, and Charles was just staring at him. “What are you looking at? Do I look weird?”</p><p>“No, um…” Charles cleared his throat. “You look very nice.”</p><p>“Yeah?” George turned to the mirror again. “Okay.”</p><p>“You always look very nice in these pastel colours,” Charles told him. “You should wear more of them.”</p><p>“Really?” George’s eyes were eager in the mirror, like he really appreciated Charles’s opinion. </p><p>“Mhm.”</p><p>George grinned at him. “Go get changed, love.”</p><p>Charles tore his eyes away from the way George’s eyes matched his shirt, and he pulled on a burgundy wool sweater and held George’s hand until they reached the church. Then he let go, and he watched George try to mend his relationship with his God.</p><p>Afterwards, they went back home and put each other’s gifts under the Christmas tree. George put out a glass of milk and some storebought cookies, and he didn’t say anything about it, but Charles knew he was thinking about home. </p><p>Early the next morning, George shook Charles awake, and they went downstairs in their pyjamas to open their presents. </p><p>“Did you do that?” George asked, pointing to the half-empty glass of milk and the empty cookie plate and grinning at Charles.</p><p>“No.” Charles had, of course. He’d snuck down when George had fallen asleep to put away the cookies and throw half the milk, thinking that it would make George smile. “It was Santa, George. Obviously.”</p><p>George tutted at him. They got their presents from behind the wrapped cardboard boxes and sat down on the floor. </p><p>Charles had gotten George a pastel yellow hoodie with a few cats on the front, climbing all over some bubble letters that formed the word <em> CAT-HOLIC.  </em></p><p>George burst into delighted laughter when he saw it, and he put it on immediately, and it fit him just right. “I love it,” he exclaimed. “I love it so much. Thank you.”</p><p>Charles knew there had been a risk that George would get offended, but he knew George, and he knew George could take a joke, so he was overjoyed that he’d been proven right. And he loved seeing George this happy, he loved when George got to act his age, because he was so young and yet he had been through so much, and Charles just wished he didn’t have to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. </p><p>The present George had for Charles was small and fit in the palm of Charles’s hand. Charles unwrapped it, and it was a stack of sketchbook papers nearly cut into squares and sewn together with black thread along one edge. </p><p>On each page, George had made a drawing in black marker – each page represented one day, one milestone in their relationship, and it came with a small drawing representing what they’d done, the name of the activity, and the date. For their first meeting, George had drawn a football and a pair of goalkeeper gloves. Their first date, a ferris wheel. It went on and on, and there was a picture for every little thing, even that time when Charles went to church with George and sat with him for two hours, and with every page he flipped, Charles felt his heart expanding until it was about to burst.</p><p>The page that read <em> Charles starts internship with George </em> came sooner than Charles wanted it to. When he saw the little art gallery facade and the replica of their windowsill of plants, he knew the end of the book was coming in a few pages, and he was reluctant to flip to the very last page until he saw what was drawn on it. </p><p>A briefcase, a stack of papers, and a pen.</p><p>
  <em> George’s internship with Charles. </em>
</p><p>Charles whipped his head towards George, and George was already grinning at him. </p><p>“You got an internship?” Charles asked him, and he nodded so quickly his head almost fell off his shoulders. “At – near my school?”</p><p>“Yeah. It’s at the marketing department of this big firm, and they’re letting me handle a bit of their social media, but I’ll get to see how the analysts and strategists work, too. And it means that I don’t have to pay fees for any credits this semester, <em> and </em>I’ll be earning a little bit more at the internship, so I can save more and afford to rent a tiny place, and you can come live with me or you can keep your room next to Pierre’s, that’s up to you, and –”</p><p>“Oh, George.” Frankly, everything George had said just went in Charles’s left ear and out his right. He lunged at George to hug him, knocking him over so he landed on his back with a yelp. “This is the best thing ever. It’s the best thing ever.”</p><p>“Are you crying?” George giggled, wrapping his arms tightly around Charles and squeezing him tight. “Don’t cry, love.”</p><p>“I’m not crying,” Charles sobbed. He just. The anxiety of leaving George alone for the new semester had always been nagging in Charles’s mind, but he’d only just realised how on edge it had made him, and the wave of relief was overwhelming. “George, I’m so happy. You make me so, so happy.”</p><p>George’s lips were upturned as he placed them behind Charles’s ear. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do,” he whispered.</p><p>“This is the best Christmas present <em> ever </em>.”</p><p>“It’s revenge for when you surprised me with your internship.”</p><p>The thought that George had felt <em> this </em>kind of happiness when he’d found out about Charles’s internship just...filled Charles with so much joy. </p><p>“You’re gonna do so great,” he told George, settling with draping himself over George and resting his head on George’s shoulder. “We’re gonna go shopping and we’ll get you tons and tons of pastel shirts, and everyone at the office is gonna fall in love with you.”</p><p>George laughed. “You’re not afraid I’ll run away with someone else?”</p><p>“Nope.” Charles really wasn’t. He really, really wasn’t. Even if George hadn’t been his soulmate. “You love me too much.”</p><p>“Mhm.” George chuckled. “Did you bonk your hand when you attacked me? Let me see.”</p><p>Charles’s wrist didn’t hurt anymore, and he could function without his brace, but he let George hold it anyway. They were hidden from the street by the Christmas tree, so they stayed, huddled together on the floor. A comfortable silence settled upon them like a warm blanket, and Charles heard George sigh into his hair. </p><p>“It’s just like you told me,” he whispered. “We have an eternity. It feels like it now.”</p><p>This time, Charles truly believed that they were already living out the eternity they had always dreamed of.</p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>Charles thought the most fun part of moving back to the city with George would be the apartment hunting. </p><p>Their first New Year’s together passed quietly, with neither of them deciding to go to any parties and instead wanting to stay at home. They cooked some nice steaks for themselves, had a little cheap wine, and just like they’d done for every last night they had at the art gallery, they spent it looking for new apartments in the big city.</p><p>At midnight, George placed a soft kiss on Charles’s lips, and he said, “This one is going to be better.”</p><p>Charles couldn’t even explain how much he believed that. He had never believed in anything more.</p><p>All the apartments in the city were really expensive, though, compared to the meagre fee they had to pay for their current apartment. Charles would honestly have been better off staying in the dorms, where it would be fully subsidized under his scholarship, but he couldn’t possibly just leave George out on the streets.</p><p>So he did a little digging and found some university accommodation that would be partially subsidized for him, and was the size of a typical apartment, so it could hold him and one other person.</p><p>When he told George about it, George was <em> ecstatic, </em> and two days later they’d checked out of the art gallery and were on their way to the train station to change cities. </p><p>Giselle was there to take the keys back and thank Charles before he left, and she helped them take hundreds of photos outside the art gallery because George was swooning over how it had been Charles’s first job and he’d done so well and how George was so proud. He sent a few of them to Pierre and Alex so they could all swoon together, despite Charles’s resistance.</p><p>The subsidized student housing was a ten-minute bus ride from Charles’s campus and a twenty-minute ride to the city centre where George would have his internship, and it was more expensive than the dorms because it was mostly for couples, but Charles could offset about half the price using the portion of his scholarship that had been for his dorm fees. Between the two of them, it was affordable, so they chose to move in. </p><p>It was a small, newly built third floor apartment with generic white walls and a big window overlooking the other crowded blocks and their shared garden. The living room fit a two-seater couch, a small coffee table, and a TV with some room to spare, and the kitchen was crammed next to it, fitted with some basic appliances, a small round table, and two chairs. The bedroom was a tad more spacious, with two work tables, one facing the window and the other facing the wall, as well as a queen bed, a wardrobe, and a bathroom. </p><p>“Do you have enough space for all your art stuff?” was the first thing George asked. “We can move the tables around. I think this is bigger than our last apartment.”</p><p>Heck, it was bigger than Charles’s freaking dorm room. Of course he had space for all his stuff. But he appreciated the thought, and he sat and watched while George attempted to plan the layout of the room so Charles could have space to paint. </p><p>“George,” he called, once George had settled a bit with his babbling. “Do you think this counts as our first apartment together, or did the art gallery count?”</p><p>George was quiet at once, and he sat down next to Charles on the bed as he gave that a thought. Then he said, quietly, “I think this one counts. It’s not just us living in whatever space is left after storage. It’s an entire place, all this space just for us, and we can move things around and put things in storage and everything.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Charles smiled. He took George’s hand and squeezed it. “I love you.”</p><p>“I love you. And I love our first apartment.”</p><p>“Me, too.”</p><p>They sat in silence for a while, the undecorated windows creaking in the wind. Charles could imagine them decorated with nice light-coloured curtains and their little plants back on the windowsill, and it made him smile.</p><p>“Charles,” George whispered.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“I didn’t know what forever was until I met you.”</p><p>Charles hadn’t known, either.</p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>George’s internship only started in the third week of February, and Charles was only beginning light training before he could properly get back on the team, so on the weekend before George’s birthday they managed to get away for a short weekend trip to Amsterdam, with very careful budgeting.</p><p>They were to leave on Friday morning, but on Thursday morning when Charles woke up to go to class he saw George already up, sitting on the floor next to the bed with a host of coloured paper and photographs in front of him. He was bent over a big piece of cardboard, meticulously gluing something on it. </p><p>“Hey,” Charles called sleepily. “Whatchu got there?”</p><p>George was so <em> excited </em>to see Charles awake. He stood up, and little flakes of paper fell off his lap. “I made us a moodboard for Amsterdam,” he said proudly, holding the cardboard up. </p><p>Charles scanned the board with all the attention he’d gathered in the seven seconds he’d been awake. “That’s lovely, George, babe, but we’re not going to be able to fit that in our bag.”</p><p>“It’s foldable,” George said, before showing Charles he’d made a slit and scored it across the middle so it could be folded up into a quarter of its size. “We can take it along.”</p><p>“Where’d you learn how to do that?” </p><p>“My soulmate is an art major,” George said, like it was obvious. He sat back down, paying no attention to all the paper scraps that were stuck on him. “C’mere. I’ll show you.”</p><p>Charles moved from the bed to the floor and instantly regretted it because all the paper started sticking to his legs. He pulled George into his lap and hugged him like a bear as George started explaining everything on the board.</p><p>He’d cut out pictures he’d found in old magazines and online, and pasted them next to neatly written lists and directions to the best sights of Amsterdam. The three days they were going to spend there were organized neatly in three columns, each column holding the corresponding pictures and lists that they needed. There was enough space remaining for them to paste new photos of themselves. George had decorated each column with little drawings, small boats and bicycles and rivers, flowers of every which kind, and traditional building facades. Just looking at all of it made Charles smile, and he couldn’t help but let George carry on talking about what he’d researched throughout the night, even though he could barely process it all because he hadn’t had his morning coffee.</p><p>“Do you like it?” he asked. </p><p>“It’s beautiful. I love it.” Charles placed a kiss on his cheek. He’d been eating regular meals again, and the rosiness and slight chubbiness had returned to them. “I love you.”</p><p>George grinned at him. “We’ll make one for every trip we take. Then we’ll paste on our photos and we’ll keep them forever.”</p><p>“Deal.” Charles leaned his head on George’s shoulder. “Did you stay up all night making this?” </p><p>“Yeah, but it was fun. I know you’re too busy to do any planning, but next time we can do it together.”</p><p>“Okay.” Charles leaned in again and managed to find George’s lips with his. “Hmm. I’m gonna be late for class. Why don’t you get some sleep?”</p><p>“I’ll make you some coffee.” George jumped to his feet and tugged on Charles’s hand. “C’mon. I’ll clean up later.”</p><p>Charles took a shower, and when he came back outside George had tea and coffee made and toast on a plate, and they had breakfast together before Charles left for class twenty minutes late.</p><p>When he came back after football training, George had woken up from his nap and had not only managed to clean everything up but had also whipped up some pasta for dinner. They had it with some of their leftover New Year’s wine, and as Charles sat across from George at their little dining table, he couldn’t help but realise yet again how lucky he was.</p><p>Their train to Amsterdam was early the next morning. George was up before Charles again, and had already helped Charles pack his bag and made breakfast for the two of them as well as a snack for the journey. As Charles sat at the table and ate the sandwich George had made for him, he couldn’t help but smile to himself.</p><p>When George asked why, Charles could only tell him the truth – that he was happier than he had ever been.</p><p>The train ride took up the whole morning, but George remained bright-eyed throughout, his face pressed up on the window as he watched the greenery fly by. He was wearing his <em> CAT-HOLIC </em>hoodie under a denim jacket, and he looked cozy. Charles sat opposite him, eyes on the sky, and even though they were mostly quiet throughout the ride, Charles just felt this familiar sense of comfort between him and George that nothing else could ever replace.</p><p>They spent the afternoon wandering around the city on their bikes, stopping by Anne Frank House before they sat by the canal trying to act out their own romantic movie. When the sun went down, they had dinner at a small obscure restaurant, then took a leisurely stroll all the way through the dwindling crowds until they got to their budget-friendly hotel, completely knackered.</p><p>It was George’s birthday trip, after all, and Charles had left all the planning to him, so he expected George to have a few places in mind where he knew he’d enjoy himself. Instead, the next day, all George had planned was art museum hopping. </p><p>“We don’t have to go to art museums all day,” Charles said when George pulled out the moodboard again and pointed it out to him. “We can do something you like. It’s your birthday.”</p><p>“I wanna do this. I’ve never been to art museums with you before,” he said. “I wanna hear you talk about art.”</p><p>“That’d make you happy?”</p><p>“It would. I promise.”</p><p>So they spent the whole morning and most of the afternoon in two art museums, and even though Charles was hesitant to push all his art knowledge on George at first, George was encouraging and eager and he kept asking questions, and eventually Charles was comfortable knowing that George wasn’t only doing this for him. </p><p>As they walked through the different galleries, he held one of Charles’s hands in both of his, and he pressed himself up against Charles’s side, and when Charles spoke, he listened with stars in his eyes. When they left the last exhibition, he turned to Charles and he said, “Maybe one day, one of your pieces will be in a big museum like this.”</p><p>Charles couldn’t help but smile at all the hope in his voice. “Maybe I’ll work in a museum like this. That seems like better money.”</p><p>George gave his hand a squeeze. “If you do what you love, and you’re happy, that’s better than any money you’re ever going to earn.”</p><p>“Hmm. Yeah, plus I know you’re gonna earn all the big bucks for me.”</p><p>George laughed, and the sound echoed off the walls of the front lobby of the museum, and it was like a choir of angels was singing. “Hell yeah. I’m gonna give you everything you want.”</p><p>“Don’t say ‘hell yeah.’ That’s rude to Jesus.”</p><p>George laughed again, softly this time. He hooked a hand below Charles’s ear, cradling the side of his neck. “I love you,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to Charles’s lips.</p><p>“I love you, too.”</p><p>It was only late afternoon when they went back outside, and the weather was chilly even though the sun was out. They wandered along the canal system again with some snacks in their hands until they found an empty bench. They sat down, and George handed Charles his new Japanese paint set, along with a paintbrush and a bottle of water.</p><p>“Paint something, if you want,” he suggested. “I’ll watch.”</p><p>So Charles pulled his legs up on the bench, and he twisted so he was leaning on George, and he rested his drawing block on his knees and he started to paint.</p><p>He painted the row of Dutch houses across from them, lining the canal in its soft, warm colours. The windows went on with off-white and gentle yellow. The cars lining the street were but greyish blotches, and the bluish-green canal water provided a cool contrast. The sun was going down, so the sky was a calm royal blue, and Charles tinted everything in a slight blue hue. </p><p>It was mostly quiet, but the sound of the paintbrush scratching against the paper seemed to calm them both. George wrapped his arm around Charles’s waist and placed his chin on Charles’s shoulder for a peek, and his breath was warm against Charles’s cheek and his nose was red from the cold, and it distracted Charles for a few moments.</p><p>At the end of it, Charles added a little bench in the foreground, with two dark silhouettes sitting on it, one leaning on the other. It was dark by the time he looked up again, with only the lone orange streetlight above them illuminating the block of paper he was holding. He had been so engrossed, he hadn’t even noticed. </p><p>He handed the drawing block to George, and George examined it for a while, his eyes bright again as he took in every detail. Charles turned around and watched him, and he couldn’t help the smile on his face that matched the one growing on George’s as the painting settled on him. </p><p>“I love it,” he whispered. “It’s so beautiful.”</p><p>“You can keep it. Happy birthday, love.”</p><p>George nodded. He pulled Charles into a tight hug. “Thank you,” he said softly.</p><p>“Are you crying?” Charles asked. “Hey. It’s just a painting. I can do more if you’d like.”</p><p>“No, I’m just – I’m just so happy. I’m so, so, so happy.”</p><p>Charles kissed him on the side of his neck. “I love you so much.”</p><p>“Me, too.”</p><p>“Let’s go have some dinner, okay? Then we’ll go back and have a nice sleep, and tomorrow we can take a walk before we leave.”</p><p>George nodded. “The moodboard says we can go to the market in the morning, then in the afternoon we can wander around until it’s time for our train.”</p><p>The way he always referred to the moodboard as a living object never failed to make Charles laugh. “Mhm. Okay.”</p><p>The Amsterdam nights were different from the ones in either city they lived in; it was quieter, though it was an equally large city, and the little alleys and walkways were hugged by the buildings, ushering Charles and George safely along them until they got to their hotel again. Though he was sure that he and George would be back there again sooner than they knew it, Charles still felt this longing for the place that came with the reluctance to go back home and face normal life.</p><p>That Sunday morning, the market was as packed as they could’ve expected it to be. They managed to stock up on maybe a month’s worth of stroopwafels and got some fresh fruits to bring back home. Charles got a tiny bag of potatoes light enough to carry home so he could make the rösti that George liked, and he had just found some fresh strawberries when he turned around and realised George had wandered somewhere else.</p><p>He eventually found George by one of the trinket stalls, which Charles realised he tended to gravitate towards. He was holding a small red velvet box and nodding at the stall owner, who was speaking to him. </p><p>“What’d you find, love?” Charles asked, stopping next to him. </p><p>George held the box out towards Charles. “These are so pretty,” he said.</p><p>It was a pair of dangly earrings, with golden studs and handmade and hand-painted porcelain tulips hanging off them. They shone in the sun, the gold parts shimmering and the painted parts smooth.</p><p>“They are,” Charles said.</p><p>“My mum would love them.”</p><p>“Do you wanna get them for her?”</p><p>George sighed. He turned the earrings under the sunlight for a few more moments, then closed the box and handed it back to the stall owner. “It’s alright. Thank you.”</p><p>He followed Charles back to get the strawberries, and he picked out some bananas for a snack because he was hungry. Before they left the market for the day, he swung a longing look back at the little stall that was selling the earrings. </p><p>“Do you want to get the earrings?” Charles asked him. “We can get them. Let’s go.”</p><p>“No.” George tugged him back by the arm. “It’s okay. Do you want to get them for your mum?”</p><p>“I’ve already gotten so many things for her. And she always says she has too many earrings.” Charles pulled George towards the stall. “C’mon. I’ll get them for you, then you can give them to her the next time you see her. Yeah?”</p><p>“I’m not even talking to her, Charles, love.”</p><p>“You always told me to have hope, and you’ve always told me that if you gave up on any of it, then you’d be letting me and yourself down. Right? Get these earrings for your ma, and the next time you see her, maybe you can give them to her.”</p><p>George sighed again. He let Charles take him back to the stall, and he picked out a nice red pair and put it in his pocket as Charles paid for it. Charles knew that despite everything else, George still missed his parents, and he still wished that he had a good relationship with them, and Charles hoped that the earrings would always remind him of that possibility.</p><p>They stopped at a street corner to pack up all their things. George took the bag of potatoes from Charles and packed it into the hiking backpack that they both shared for the trip, but not without teasing Charles about coming to Amsterdam to buy a bag of fucking potatoes. </p><p>“Wait till I stuff your mouth with the best rösti in the world,” Charles told him. </p><p>“You already make the best rösti in the world.” George pressed a kiss to Charles’s nose. “C’mon. We’ll take a walk and have lunch, and then we can go to the train station.”</p><p>They had pancakes for lunch because there was no one to stop them, and though George’s nose was still pink as they left the restaurant, he seemed adequately warmed by the cup of coffee in his hands, and he seemed to have forgotten the little personal ordeal he’d had at the earring booth earlier. </p><p>The train station was only across the road from them when they stopped in front of a big, looming cathedral, its dark gothic facade nestled between the lighter browns of the other traditional housefronts. George gazed up at it, at the high arches of the front and the towering columns and the big round dirty glass window. His eyes landed on the cross in the middle of the facade, standing tall and bright, a lighter shade of brownish grey than everything surrounding it.</p><p>“Can you wait for me out here for a bit?” he asked Charles. “I just, um...I wanna go inside for a bit.”</p><p>“I’ll go in with you,” Charles suggested. “If you want, of course.”</p><p>The interior was dark, even though it was a sunny day outside. The ceilings were tall and the main hall was illuminated by what little light coming through the stained glass windows in front of the pews. Traditional art decorated the arches along the sides, and it was colourful but serene, wrapping them in its embrace. George held on to Charles’s hand as they walked between the pews and stopped near the front, in front of the cross.</p><p>Then he let go of Charles’s hand, clasped his hands together, and started to pray.</p><p>
  <em> “Dear Heavenly Father, I thank You for this wonderful weekend here. Thank You for making this trip possible. I am so grateful for everything that You have given me. Every day I am blessed by Your grace, and I am grateful that You love me and accept me. Lord, please bless my ma and my dad with good health and happiness. I miss them so much. Please let them find peace in whatever they choose to do. I place all my faith in You. Amen.” </em>
</p><p>He signed the Cross, then just stood quietly for a while, peering up at the cross. As the sunlight filtered in through the windows and illuminated his face in a host of colours, Charles thought he genuinely looked like an angel that belonged right there in that cathedral. </p><p>He turned to Charles, and though his eyes were teary, he managed a smile. “Let’s go,” he whispered. </p><p>The short remaining walk to the station was quiet, and it remained that way as they sat on the platform waiting for their train. The sun was setting steadily, and George was looking towards the direction it was in, the slivers of gold highlighting his features. </p><p>“Did you have a good time?” Charles asked him.</p><p>“I did. I had the best time,” George said. “Thank you.”</p><p>“You sure you don’t want any other birthday presents?”</p><p>“I’m sure. Just being here with you, just this weekend alone, it’s more than anything I’ve ever wanted.”</p><p>“Happy birthday, George. I hope that this year’s gonna be great for you.”</p><p>“Thank you, Charles. Just...just thank you. For everything.”</p><p>He took Charles’s hand and didn’t let go of it throughout their journey back; he held on to it on the train, even when they both fell asleep halfway through. He held it in the taxi on the way back to their apartment. He held it as they pittered around the apartment putting everything away, and he held it when they climbed into bed together to go to sleep.</p><p>And even if Charles didn’t know anything else – even if it was the only thing Charles knew in the world, it would always be true that when George held his hand like that, Charles would have the most peaceful sleep. </p><p>So that night he closed his eyes and he huddled close to his George, and he tried to forget about how this was the month he had been supposed to send George to get married to someone else, and he had the most restful, dreamless sleep.</p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>The way George’s life was on his twenty-first birthday was a world of difference from how it had been when he turned twenty. </p><p>He was away from his parents, and he hadn’t spoken to them in six months. He could spend it with Charles, and he could enjoy it without having to worry about what his parents would think. </p><p>He’d even almost forgotten that this very month, on the Saturday right after his twenty-first birthday, he was supposed to get married to Andy. It just all seemed so far away, just out of George’s reach, as if he had finally, <em> finally </em> found himself in a place he was comfortable with.</p><p>For the first time since he’d met Charles, George could look back, he could think about the few months that had passed, and say definitively that he was happy.</p><p>His birthday was his last free day before he started his internship, and he spent all of it with Charles, crashing his lectures and following him around campus doing his strange art things. Then he sat in the bleachers watching Charles train with his football team, and it reminded him of Charles’s birthday two years ago when George had come here to surprise him, and it brought a bittersweet feeling to his heart.</p><p>They got a small birthday cake on their way back home, and placed it in the fridge as Charles prepared the rösti that he’d promised George. George brought all of Charles’s football equipment and his books into the room and put everything away, then he sat down on the bed and checked his phone for the first time that day, his heart skipping a couple of beats when he saw texts from Benjy. </p><p><em> &lt; Hey, Georgie boy. </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> &lt; Happy birthday from us. </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> &lt; Hope you’re still balling hard. </em> <em> <br/></em> <em> &lt; Mum and dad wanted to call you, but I didn’t think you wanted them to have your number, so here’s a text they told me to give you. </em> <br/>&lt; Hello, George. We just want to wish you a happy birthday, and we hope that you're doing alright and you’re having a nice birthday. Easter is coming up soon, and we were hoping to hear from you before then, and maybe get to spend Easter with you here at home. Please call us anytime, if you want. We miss you and we’d love to hear from you. Love, mum and dad.</p><p>George read the message a few times before he felt tears come.</p><p>He put his phone away and sighed.</p><p>It was always so strange how George could miss his parents so much and yet be filled with so much fear and rage every time he heard from them. </p><p>He swallowed his tears and slid the window open so Charles’s plants could dance. It always calmed him, the sight of the little green leaves bouncing in the wind. Charles was telling him something from the kitchen, but George couldn’t bring himself to process any of it, and instead just stared out at the little garden below them, where one of their neighbours was watering the small vegetable farm they had going on. </p><p>Their Amsterdam moodboard was on the floor by the bed, leaning against the wall, now complete with all the photographs they’d taken on the trip. George took out the tulip earrings they’d bought and looked at them under the fading daylight. They were still as beautiful as when George had first seen them, and he was still convinced that his mother would love them. Maybe he could give them to her over Easter.</p><p>“George?” Charles appeared at the door a few minutes later, concern lining his voice. He stopped next to George, his hand landing softly in George’s hair. “Hey. What’s going on? I was talking to you.”</p><p>“Do you remember that –” The words caught in George’s throat. “Have you thought about how...this month, this Saturday, I’m supposed to get married to Andy? This Saturday, in four days. If I hadn’t...if I hadn’t left, I would be marrying Andy this Saturday.”</p><p>Charles didn’t say anything for a long time. He sat down next to George, and he watched his plants dance their little dance. </p><p>“I haven’t – I haven’t thought about it for a long time,” he finally said, his voice low. “I, uh...it hurts a lot. To think about it.”</p><p>“Yeah.” George sighed again. “Sorry.”</p><p>“What’s going on, love?”</p><p>George handed Charles his phone, and he watched Charles’s worried expression deepen in the small rectangle of light from the phone that lit up the otherwise dark room. </p><p>Then he said, softly, “You don’t have to reply to this right now, yeah? You don’t have to think about it if you don’t want to. You decide how much you want to be in contact with them. Yeah? It’s not just them who gets to decide. But whatever you decide, I’ll be right here.”</p><p>George nodded. He put his phone away. “I just...I don’t know yet.”</p><p>“Mhm. Yeah.” Charles pressed his lips on George’s temple. “That’s fine. Yeah?”</p><p>“I just think that...you know, maybe the fact that they’re trying to reach out to me after so long, maybe – maybe they’ve grown, too. Maybe they’ve moved a step towards understanding me. Do you think so?”</p><p>Charles couldn’t seem to hide his smile at all the hope George had. “Yeah, maybe. I...I don’t want you to have too much hope, though. Not that I think that couldn’t be the case. I just...I just don’t want you to get hurt so badly again.”</p><p>“Mm. You’re right, yeah.” George took his hand. “If I go back for Easter, will you go with me?” </p><p>“Of course, love. I’d go anywhere with you.”</p><p>George smiled at him, and the look of relief on his face was so childlike and angelic. George knew it took him a lot to agree to that. To meet George’s parents again, given what had gone down at their last meeting. And yet, he had agreed so readily and eagerly.</p><p>Charles had never – he had never once told George, he had never once outright promised George that he would take care of him. But he did. He took better care of George and all his emotions than anyone else had ever. Even the people who had promised him they would. He took care of George silently and resiliently, and he never said anything about it to George and neither did George to him, but it was this quiet trust that they had in each other that powered George through every day.</p><p>So that evening was no different, and George forgot about the text and he went outside to sit down and watch Charles cook rösti and sausages, and he listened to Charles make jokes about their day to lift the heaviness from their mood. </p><p>The rösti he made really was the best George had tasted from him, so he felt guilty for making fun of Charles about the Dutch potatoes. But when he mentioned it, all Charles did was smile at him and stroke his hair and tell him it was all in good fun.</p><p>Dinner was quiet but pleasant, and they spent the night fooling around in bed until they were both tired out and falling asleep in a sticky, sweaty huddle. And the last thing that George remembered thinking about before he fell asleep, the last thing that he remembered thinking about in the final minutes of his birthday – it was all the hope that Charles always gave him without even noticing, and it was all the hope George had and always would have in their relationship as soulmates.</p><p>So he fell asleep that night smiling, holding more hope in his arms in the form of Charles than he had ever before.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. I can’t outrun the hurt, but I can love and love again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys!<br/>Sorry for the long wait for this chapter! There are some parts of this chapter that were really personal to me and hard to write, and at the same time I got a little busy. But I hope you guys will enjoy it and you'll like the ending. Thank you for sticking with me till the end even though this fic is centered on such a controversial topic. I really appreciate all of your support &lt;3 </p><p>Again <a href="https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4NRv3664N8qybsfKFpAcVg?si=ZXRiLV2-R26Yllq8nCDnQg">here</a> is the playlist that I made for this series, you can check it out if you're interested!</p><p>Do leave a comment if you'd like or you can also find me on tumblr at geeeooorrrge :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Easter rolled around sooner than Charles and George had been expecting it to. George had been so occupied with his new internship and all the fun things he was learning, and he was so obsessed with telling Charles every detail so Charles could experience it with him, that the days just flew them by. Before they knew it, it was already the end of March.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s parents hadn’t tried contacting him again, but their invitation nagged at him so much that he eventually told Charles he felt that it was better to go back than not, even if it was going to just be for closure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles held his hand as he called his parents to tell them he was dropping by, and it was a very short phone call because George didn’t want to go into the courtesies and had only curtly informed them he was going back, but it still left him crying after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite that, he still felt like it was something he had to do, and Charles knew it was something he had to let George decide on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So that Easter weekend, they rented a car and drove back to George’s town for Good Friday Mass, and they went to George’s little hometown church, the same one they’d gone to two Christmases ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The familiarity of it hit Charles the moment he stepped inside with George, and he immediately wished he’d taken up George’s suggestion to wait in the car instead of joining Mass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Benjy and Cara were spending the weekend with their own families, and George didn’t seem too keen on sitting alone with his parents, so he brought Charles to one of the pews near the back, from which they could see his parents in the third row. They did turn around to look for him before Mass started, and their faces lit up when they saw him, and they gestured for him to join them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George waved back at them, but he shook his head at the offer. All the light drained from his parents’ faces as they looked to George’s side and saw Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles swallowed his trepidation and let go of George’s hand, afraid that George would notice him trembling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three-hour Mass didn’t make any sense at all to Charles, but he sat through it, and at the end of it when everyone was intermingling and George’s parents started approaching them, he found himself closed into the pew by George, with nowhere to run. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought if he sat still enough, they wouldn’t take any heed of him, so he stayed where he was as George stood up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, George, baby,” his mum said. She sounded so </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy </span>
  </em>
  <span>to see George. “How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright, ma.” George reached behind him for Charles’s hand. There was a hint of defiance in his voice as he said, “I brought Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Charles said. He offered them a smile, but they didn’t respond. “It’s – it’s nice to see you again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They didn’t seem to think the same. “George, why don’t you have lunch with us?” his father asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George. Just George. Not ‘you two’ or ‘George and Charles’. Just George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles swallowed hard.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait for us outside the corner restaurant, okay?” George’s mum said softly. “We’ll go talk to some people and we’ll be out in a minute.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George hadn’t even had a chance to reply before they walked away, and he turned to Charles, disappointed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon.” Charles smiled at him, hoping to place some life back in his eyes. “Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George took his hand as they walked out of the church, and he brought Charles to a restaurant just a short walk away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is where they brought me to meet Andy,” he told Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s nice. It looks nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George stopped outside and pulled Charles into a tight hug. “Charles, I – I’m sorry I brought you back here. It must feel horrible. I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that. It’s fine.” It wasn’t really, but Charles didn’t think he could say that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just…” George sighed, and pulled away from the hug, though he still held Charles close by the waist. “I still have hope. That they’ve thought about it, and they get me now. You know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. I know, love.” Charles hooked his arms over George’s shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think that’s wrong?” There was a furrow in George’s brow, and Charles wanted to kiss it away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not wrong,” Charles said. ”George, love. Just have this lunch with your parents, talk to them, see how they’re doing, and then we’ll work our way up from there. Okay? You have the earrings to give your mum, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded slowly. “Charles, do you – what are you gonna have for lunch?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I’ll drive into the middle of town,” Charles said, gently running his hand through George’s hair, hoping it would calm him. “Yeah? When you’re done, text me, and I’ll drive back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The furrow in George’s brow deepened. “You’ll be alright?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be fine, love,” Charles whispered. “It’ll all be fine. Yeah? Everything will be fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George pressed his head against Charles’s. “Can you count for me, please?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn’t remember the last time George was anxious enough to ask Charles to count for him. He held George’s face softly in his hands as he counted to sixteen, and though George looked a little less uneasy afterwards, Charles knew he was still nervous.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” he told George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too.” George smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you.” Charles placed a quick kiss on his nose. “Be strong for me. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When George kissed him on the forehead in return, it was lingering, and Charles lost himself for a few moments in his embrace, suddenly wishing that he could stay forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was rudely jolted back into reality when someone cleared their throat next to them, and he quickly pulled away from George when he realised George’s parents had returned. He could feel the blush on his cheeks, and he wished that he could just burrow into the ground and disappear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh...I’ll go,” he said pointlessly. “Have – have a nice lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He gave George’s hand a squeeze, then turned around to start walking back towards the church, where the car was parked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can join us, if you want.” Her voice was soft as she called out to Charles, but George’s mum sounded genuine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father, though, looked slightly disapproving.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t see any further than that, and took his mum by her word. He dragged Charles into the restaurant with them, the disappointment from earlier completely replaced by a hopeful look on his face, as if he thought his parents were really about to accept him and Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles wasn’t so sure, but he thought he might be able to provide George with some moral support, so he stayed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They got a booth near the middle of the restaurant, Charles and George sitting across from George’s parents. It was quiet for a while as they pored over their menus, and George took Charles’s hand under the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How have you been, George?” his father asked, breaking the strange silence. “What have you been up to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you been doing alright at school?” his mum asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George gave them the tiniest smile, and Charles was so </span>
  <em>
    <span>proud</span>
  </em>
  <span> of him. “I moved in with Charles last semester when he was doing his internship at an art gallery. And I did really, really well for my exams, and I dragged my GPA up. I’m in the top quarter of my class now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s very nice,” his dad said. “How about this semester?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George seemed delighted that his parents had accepted that little description and hadn’t said anything rude to either of them yet. He turned to Charles happily, and he was grinning so hard, and he looked like he wanted Charles to continue, so Charles did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George is doing an internship this semester.” Just talking about it filled Charles with this immense pride. “At this really big firm in the city where I go to school. He handles their social media, and he’s doing really well, and they’ve told him that –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked George.” George’s father cut him off mid-sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles pressed his mouth shut. He was tempted to turn to George, but George’s dad’s voice had been like a stab to Charles’s heart, and he was afraid he would burst into tears if he looked at George. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt George’s gaze bore into the side of him for a few moments before he said, “I’m doing well at my internship. They said that they might have a position for me after I graduate, if I continue doing well. But it’s still early, and I’ve only been there two months or so, so I want to look at other things.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s great, George,” his mum said. She looked so soft and loving and Charles often felt guilty about putting her through all of this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you choose to move for this internship so you could be with him?” his father asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed. “No, dad. Most students go for an internship in their third year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dad wasn’t convinced, and turned to Charles, sneering at him from across the table. “Did you make him move cities so he could move in with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t,” Charles whispered, his throat closing up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He didn’t, dad. Drop it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a short, tense silence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tell us more about what you do at your job,” George’s mum said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George told them all of it; he poured his entire soul into it, and he told them how nice his colleagues were and how they let him take charge of several different social media accounts and how they let him sit in on meetings. He told them everything he’d learnt about marketing and branding new products and how to present them. Even though it had only been two months, George really had learned so much, and as he spoke, his parents looked at him with this proud look on their faces that Charles hadn’t imagined he would see from them again after what had happened.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When you left, we thought you’d changed so much. But you haven’t changed one bit since you were a child.” George’s father sounded surprised about it. “You’re still the happy, talkative boy we know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course I haven’t changed,” George said. “Why’d you think I would?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles caught George’s father’s gaze flit briefly towards him. He hoped George hadn’t seen it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t blame him. Charles was afraid that he’d changed George, too. That he’d made George more rebellious, or rude, or hateful. Even though George was convinced he hadn’t, and he had done nothing but help George discover who he really was and what God really wanted for him. He was convinced that Charles had done nothing but brought happiness into George’s life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But sometimes, Charles wondered if George would be better off without him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would shake off the feeling, knowing George would be angry if he knew. That day, he did the same.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you still go to church?” George’s mum asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Occasionally, yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s dad’s gaze flitted to Charles again. “Does he go with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles goes with me sometimes. But he’s not religious.” George seemed to want to make a point by saying that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s dad cleared his throat. His mum clasped her hands together nervously. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen Andy lately?” George asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Her name is Anna,” George’s mum said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s Andy, ma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dad cleared his throat again. “We haven’t seen Anna. She barely visits anymore. It’s like she was –” he paused to shoot Charles a harsh, spiteful look. “Like she was taken away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles swallowed his tears. He turned his gaze to the laminated menu in front of him, deciding not to look up or participate in the conversation again. He felt George squeeze his hand, but even then it was a weak squeeze, telling Charles George was also on the verge of giving up. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s parents paid no heed, and moved on to talk about how they still had most of the wedding contacts and could easily contact Andy to reschedule it. They still had a venue easily available, and they could have family and friends come by on short notice, and they seemed to think it would still be easy to go through with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All of it while Charles was sitting there in front of them, holding George’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles saw the hope slowly fade from George’s eyes with every sentence his parents spoke, like the final flickering of a candle before the wick ran out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sensed the air around them was tense because of his presence, so he thought it would be better if he left. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um...I think I’ll leave you guys to talk,” he said. “I’ll...I’ll just go. Thank you for having me. Have a nice lunch.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can stay,” George’s dad said curtly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Stop talking to him like that,” George finally snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George,” Charles whispered, tugging at George’s hand. “Don’t be like this. It’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not.” George’s jaw was tense, his teeth gritted, as he turned to Charles. The pure </span>
  <em>
    <span>fury </span>
  </em>
  <span>in his eyes was unlike anything Charles had ever seen from him. “It’s not, and I’m not going to sit here and have lunch if they’re gonna keep talking to you like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s mum cleared her throat softly. “Charles, George, we’re sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had always thought that out of George’s dad and mum, his mum would be the one who would give in more. He managed a small smile at her, and even though her smile back looked forced, at least it was better than nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” Charles whispered. He turned to George again, and squeezed his hand. “Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why did you ask me to come back if you’re just going to do all the same things you did before? If you’re just going to continue being snide to me? You didn’t ask me to come back because you wanted to make amends. You asked me to come back because you still want to change me and you still hate Charles and want to convince me to feel the same. Don’t you know that it’s not Charles’s fault that we ended up like this?” George didn’t seem to be willing to let it go. He was </span>
  <em>
    <span>furious, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his hand squeezing Charles’s so hard that it went numb. “Do you know that? He’s never, ever, not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>one</span>
  </em>
  <span> time, wanted to take me away from you. He’s always reminded me that you’re my parents, and that you love me and want the best for me, and that I shouldn’t pick him over you. He’s not the reason we ended up like this, ma, dad. You’re the reason. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You’re </span>
  </em>
  <span>the reason because you keep pushing me away and you never want to listen to me or how I feel, and you went behind my back and tried to control every aspect of my life, like I’m just your little puppet. And if I can’t live with you two, it’s because of how </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel, and not because Charles told me to feel that way. Charles is so full of love, and he has never seen you as his enemies, and he has never once tried to make me hate you. In fact, he’s always tried to make me understand you and love you. But I can’t. I –” George paused to sigh, and when he closed his eyes, tears fell out of them. “I can’t live with anyone who constantly makes me want to hate myself. I’m sorry. I’m...I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled Charles along with him as he stood up, but when Charles tried to hold him back so they could talk it out, he pried his hand out of Charles’s and slipped out of his seat before Charles could respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The three of them could only watch him leave down the street, his head down and sobbing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles sat awkwardly at the table with George’s parents for a few silent minutes before he decided to go after George. “Sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He ran down the street in the direction he’d seen George head towards, and he found George outside the church, leaning on their car, his head in his hands as he sobbed heavily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Charles said softly, pulling him into a hug, which he leaned into without much resistance. “Hey. C’mon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really thought,” George sobbed loudly into Charles’s shoulder. “I really, really thought.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Charles whispered. “I know. It’s fine. It’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not. I don’t know how to tell you it’s not.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George lived the same pain every day, the pain of wanting and failing to forgive and trust the people who brought him up and loved him since he was born but who hated who he grew up to be. Charles knew that. He knew that, but he would never understand it, and it tore him apart every time he thought about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not ready to forgive them, and that’s okay, yeah?” Charles said. “You don’t have to do it right now. You need more time, and that’s fine. You know? We’ll get there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What if we don’t?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn’t have an answer for him that wouldn’t make it sound like he was trying to tear George away from his parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wasn’t. He’d never meant to, and he’d never wanted to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles.” George’s sobbing had subsided, but he was still shaking. “Can we just – can you just open the door, can we just get in the car and drive somewhere far away?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Yeah, okay. Let’s go, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright. It’s all gonna be alright, yeah, George? I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George said nothing, and he only climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door and leaned his head on it. “Just...just drive wherever,” he whispered, his voice tired and weak.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles headed straight out of town. He remembered passing a big beach all those months ago when he’d driven in the middle of the night with his dad to pick George up at the train station, but it was dark then and he didn’t quite catch where it was, so he just decided to drive until he found it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The highway was quite empty, and Charles didn’t dare to turn on the radio, so there was a tense silence between them. George stared out the window at the brown nothingness that surrounded his town, tears streaming down his cheeks. He reached into his pocket for the red velvet box with the tulip earrings; when he opened it, they glimmered under the sunlight just like they did that very first day at the Amsterdam market, and it made George cry even harder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His gentle sobs filled the air between them, and Charles. Charles just wished he could hold George. He could barely focus on the road. He just wanted to stop there in the middle of the highway and hold George and kiss him until he was better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But instead, he just drove, and he drove and drove, because that was what George wanted him to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And George cried and cried, the earrings in his hands, representing all the hope he had come here with but which was now gone, because Charles knew there was nothing else he knew to do after such a massive blow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles knew that George loved his parents, he loved his parents </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much </span>
  </em>
  <span>and he’d come here that day, despite everything else, with so much hope and with the thought that they could come to a compromise and try to understand each other. He had come with the hope that his parents loved him enough to want to try, just like George had tried from the very beginning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And now, all that was left of it was his tears and the ungiven gift of the earrings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The beach turned out to be just over an hour’s drive away from the town, beyond a gravel parking lot that was empty when Charles pulled into it. George was already fast asleep by then, having been tired out by his crying. He was hugging the tulip earrings to himself, his tears still only half-dried on his cheeks. He had pulled his legs up to his chest and pressed his head on the window, and while he was curled up like that, he just looked so small and troubled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles sat for a while, trying his hardest not to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But the sadness overwhelmed him like a tsunami; Charles had kept it in for so long, he had always kept it in for George’s sake, but that entire day fell on him at once. To see George’s hope ebb and flow in the span of a few hours. To face the wrath of his parents, who were more hostile to Charles than they had been the last time that they’d met. To see George cry the way he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had to bite on his lip to stop himself from sobbing loudly, but when that didn’t work, when winding down the window didn’t stop Charles from feeling like he was suffocating, he had to get out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He left the window open for ventilation, and started walking towards the sea, stopping only where the gravel parking lot met grassy sand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The beach was just as secluded in the daytime as it had been in the night. The sand looked dark and coarse from where Charles stood, and the waves were foamy and loud. Charles didn’t walk any further, instead just sitting down on the grassy sand. At least the blueness of the sea and the sky was something he could enjoy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he was still close enough to see George sleeping in the car when he turned around, Charles felt this heavy blanket of loneliness descend on him and prick at the back of his eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The way that George trusted his parents was childlike and innocent; it was the same way Charles trusted his parents. It was the same way </span>
  <em>
    <span>any </span>
  </em>
  <span>kid trusted their parents. But the way they embarrassed him, the way they manipulated him, and the way they never tried as hard to understand George as George did to understand them – it was a sort of betrayal that no child should ever be made to feel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had always known that it was something George went through at home, but that day, he truly felt the brunt of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt the utter fear, the humiliation that George had to go through, talking about a wedding he didn’t want. He felt the complete confusion that someone he trusted so much would turn on him that way and speak to him so derogatorily. He felt the desire to run away or simply crumble into sand and disappear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And he realised exactly how strong George was; Charles had always known of his tenacity, but that day he learned that it was truly beyond anything Charles had ever imagined.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was hit by that familiar feeling, that feeling of not knowing what he was allowed to do, or say, or feel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course he was angry; he was so angry at George’s parents, but it wasn’t like there was anything he could say. They weren’t his parents, they were George’s, and Charles had taken their son away from them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, Charles just felt like there were so many things he couldn’t say to George. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sighed out at the sea, and it sighed back at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about how spiteful George’s dad had been to him, how Charles could see all the hate in his eyes, and how Charles had never in his life felt so intimidated or hurt or humiliated by a single person.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought about the bright look on George’s face and all the faith he must have held when he first saw his parents that day, seven months after leaving them. He thought about how happy George looked when his mother had invited Charles to stay for lunch, and how he must’ve thought, with his entire heart, that they were finally beginning to accept him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sight of all the hope draining from George’s beautiful eyes was an image that Charles was never going to forget. It was a sort of pain that struck Charles’s very soul, over and over again, until it was all he could feel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know how much longer he was going to be able to take this. Wave after wave of George having hope only to lose it again. Wave after wave, just like the way the water hit the shore in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles started to cry, and the sea sighed at him again, as if it was berating him for being so defeated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his eyes and saw George again, he saw the most magical blue in George’s eyes when he smiled, the blue of pure happiness. He just wished it could always be that way. He wished that George could always be happy, and he wished he could give George everything he’d ever wanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the bliss they’d experienced for the past seven months only made the pain of that day even deeper, even more piercing, like they had just fallen from the highest cliff. Charles tried his hardest to stop crying, but it just kept hitting him over and over again, the ache in his heart just grew and grew until Charles was completely controlled by the way his sobs wracked his body. He sat, hugging himself and shaking, as the orange glow of the sunset sky watched him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was hard to imagine that once, a long time ago, this would be the only time he could see the sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking about how things used to be, about how Charles used to long for the colour blue and how he was always so curious about who is soulmate was, about how he always had the hope that his soulmate would show him the rest of the world – and to compare it to what Charles had right now, it just all seemed so unbelievable. It was so many downs and so little ups, and it was wilder than anything Charles could’ve ever imagined. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet, Charles knew that as long as he had George, he wouldn’t want to change a single thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat and cried and cried until he ran out of tears, with his chest left twisted in a knot and his body shuddering with emptiness. His nose was blocked and his eyes were sore but it was cathartic; Charles had barely ever let himself feel all the emotions of this relationship before. He had always avoided feeling too much of all the bad parts. But he had held it in for way too long. That day, it had all hit him at once, he had let it all out, and even though it was the biggest crying session he’d ever had, Charles did feel a smidge better afterwards. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was glad, though, that George wasn’t by his side, watching the hot, blubbering mess that he’d become. He didn’t ever want George to see him that way. He didn’t want George to feel more guilty than he already did that he had to put Charles through all of this. For George, Charles would always, always be okay. He would always be strong. Just like how George had always been so strong for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sun had completely set by the time Charles stood up, and the roar of the sea seemed magnified. He made sure there were no tear streaks left on his face before he got up and headed back to the car. The streetlight near the edge of the parking lot lit up his path dimly, so Charles walked with his head down, his shoes crunching in the gravel, until he got to the car and opened the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was already awake, though he was still curled up in his seat, his knees leaning on the passenger door. The overhead light turned off when Charles shut the door, but he could still feel George’s eyes on him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ll drive into the next town and see what we can get for dinner, yeah?” Charles said to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles.” George reached up to turn the light on, but Charles grabbed his arm to stop him. “Are you okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles cleared his throat. “What do you wanna eat?” he asked, afraid he would start crying again if he tried talking about it. “I don’t know what they have in the next town.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Charles.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine, love,” Charles said, even though his voice shook at the end.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sat quietly for a while, like he was trying to decide whether to believe Charles. He reached for the overhead light again, and Charles had no energy to stop him. He knew by then that George had probably seen him crying, but had waited in the car so he wouldn’t interrupt his time alone. He felt George’s eyes burn holes into him, and he shook with the effort not to turn around to look at George, knowing just the sight of George’s face, kind and soft and worried and understanding, would make him start to cry again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t always have to be strong for me, you know?” George whispered. “It’s okay if you want to be mad, or upset, or hurt. That’s your right. You don’t have to keep it all to yourself. You’ve already been through so much for me and I’d hate it if I put you through any more. I know that there’s so many things you want to say but you don’t dare to. I just...everything you feel, everything you’re bottling up, everything that you’re so scared to tell me because you’re afraid I’ll be offended or mad – I know all of it, and I feel all of it, and you can always talk to me about it because I’ll always understand. And if I don’t, I promise you I’ll always try to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nodded. “Thank you,” he said. He didn’t think he could ever put it all into words. He didn’t think he could ever bring himself to. He’d kept it all inside for too long.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just that...I know there’s so many things that happened that hurt you as much as they hurt me, or more. But you’ve never once talked about them. You’ve never cried to me or complained to me or gotten upset. I’ve put you through so much, Charles, and I really hate that. I really do. And I know that since the start I’ve always pleaded for you to stay, but I want you to know that you staying doesn’t mean that everything has to be okay all the time. It doesn’t mean that you have to just accept the hurt without one word of complaint.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just hope you know that…that you don’t have to just say ‘it’s fine’ all the time, and let it go. You don’t have to. You’ve never had to, but you always have. Every time I pushed you away, every time I hurt you, every time I couldn’t put our relationship first, you told me ‘it’s fine.’ I was gonna get married to someone else and you told me ‘it’s fine.’ My parents were so horrible to you and you’re telling me ‘it’s fine.’ You’ve always told me ‘it’s fine’ even though I know it’s not, and I…it’s not good for you. You’ve had to take so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s because I love you,” Charles whispered. “And I’d do anything for you. It’s all I know, George. It’s all I know. Nothing else. I’d walk through fire for you. Anything’s fine. I’ll deal with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m telling you that you don’t have to.” George’s voice was firm, but thick with tears again. “You can cry and rage and be hateful and I will never blame you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It does to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to make it any harder than it is for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You won’t.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat silently for a while, listening to the waves sing a song they didn’t quite understand. Charles had always felt a pull towards the sea, and until he’d met George, he’d never really understood why.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was peaceful, really, sitting there quietly with George, drowning in the waves. Charles closed his eyes for a while, just revelling in the sound. It was loud but it was comforting, just like the way silences always were between him and George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles took a long, deep breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t hate your parents,” he whispered. “I don’t. But I’m – I’m so angry with them. I’m so angry that they reduced you to the way you were when you first left home. Today, I – I finally realised how bad it was for you last summer, and I hate that I wasn’t by your side for it, I hate that you were alone and they were treating you like that every day. I’ve always said that you should give them a chance because I know that they love you just like any parent would love their child, but I wish they didn’t love you the way they do. This...this suffocating, controlling way. They’ve hurt you so much and I hope that they’ll try to make amends, that you’ll meet in the middle and try to understand each other, but I just don’t think that I can ever forgive them for what they did to you. I know that it’s complicated. They love you and I know you love them in a complicated way that I can’t even try to understand. I know that no matter what, they’ve always wanted what they thought was best for you. I just – I don’t want to make you choose. I don’t want it to be a choice for you. I just want you to be happy, I want you to have both your family and me. And I hate that I can’t give you that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not your responsibility. You know? It’s not. You don’t have to carry the world on your shoulders all the time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Neither do you,” Charles pointed out. “But you still do. All the time, for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled, despite it all. “And you, for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just know that you never, ever have to feel like you have to choose me, okay?” Charles said softly, even though the words always, always hurt him to say. “No matter how long we’ve been together. No matter where we are. If you choose something else that means that I can’t be with you, then –”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say it’s fine. Don’t say that. It’s not fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just know that it’s an option. Okay? I just need you to know that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded, although he looked reluctant to accept it. “And you have to know that you can always talk to me and you can be angry or upset and sometimes it can just not be okay, and I’ll be here. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George took Charles’s hand and lifted it to his lips. “I love you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you more. More than the moon loves the sea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s smile was gentle and proud. “I love that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George, I…” Charles sighed. “I’m sorry. About today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s gaze faltered, and it moved to the closed box of earrings, now sitting on the dashboard. “I’ll...I’ll get over it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want to say that I’m so proud of you. I really am. I’m so proud that you even came here today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” George sounded like he was trying to swallow fresh tears. “Charles. I’m so sorry. That they were like that to you. I know – it was horrible. I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, love. It really is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know what else to say.” Charles really didn’t. “They’re your parents. Without them, there wouldn’t be you, and I would never be as happy as I am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled, though it looked sad. “Don’t flirt with me to change the subject.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve already told you. It’s not okay, but...I just don’t know what else to feel.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed. He let go of Charles’s hand to wipe the tears that were falling down his cheeks. “Yeah. I just – it hurts so much. That they were like that to you. My dad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They just don’t like me. It’s cool. There are many people who don’t like me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s ridiculous,” George said matter-of-factly. “They’re all stupid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles burst into laughter, and the resulting grin on George’s face was almost enough to erase everything that had happened that day. “Mhm. You like me, and that’s all that matters to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wrong.” George leaned over and slowly pressed his lips on Charles’s. “I don’t. I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you so much, Georgie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go, yeah? We haven’t eaten all day. The next town’s about thirty minutes away. We’ll find something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nodded. He rolled up the window and turned off the light, and he started driving. George was quiet again, but he reached for the radio, and though he was still staring out at nothingness, this time he looked a little bit happier.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next town was but a small little rural area with brown brick buildings, a handful of restaurants, a convenience store, and a small supermarket. All of them were closed save for the convenience store, which stood out in the middle of two taller square-windowed, clean brick buildings, with its bright white lights.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles and George got two microwave meals, some potato chips, a slice of frozen chocolate cake, and two milkshakes, and they got back in the car and drove until they found an empty carpark near the edge of town.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat in the car and ate their cheap convenience store dinner under the lone orange overhead light, accompanied by a string of soft love songs on the radio. The emptiness of the parking lot and the singular tall streetlight in the middle of it beckoned them outside, and they eventually obliged, winding down the windows again so they could slow dance to the love songs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And despite the day they’d had – despite having been tired and hungry and sad all day, Charles thought that the night had made up for all of it, and though it was heartachingly simple, Charles genuinely thought that it was one of the most memorable nights he’d ever spent with his George.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Though it was nice being at what could be considered his first job, the rest of the semester didn’t get any easier for George because he was constantly thinking about what he was supposed to do when summer came and he had to be apart from Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only worked office hours, so every night for dinner he would go home and eat with Charles, no matter whether it was a pizza he’d grabbed on the way home or something quick either of them made on the stove. Sometimes, they went out for dinner with Pierre and Alex, or the two of them would visit the apartment and they would chill in front of the TV. No matter how many times they hung out, the feeling George got when the four of them were together was still surreal, and it was still more gratifying than anything else, even though the apartment was a squeeze with four people.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George usually awoke before Charles, so in the morning he would be in the kitchen first, and Charles would join him twenty minutes later when he was attracted to the scent of coffee and buttered toast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Morning Charles was George’s favourite version of Charles. He smelled like sleep and he was never fully awake until he was about to go out the door, but he was extremely affectionate when he was sleepy. He would latch on to George as he walked around the apartment and press close to him at the breakfast table, making little whiny noises when George didn’t give him enough attention. He gave George lazy kisses in return and refused to let go of him until it was time to take a shower. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George always felt this strange sense of nostalgia when Charles was showering, as if the sound of the shower muffled through the door evoked some deep-seated memories in him. Perhaps it was the domesticity of it that reminded him of how close he had been to losing Charles, and how they were still together, stronger than ever, </span>
  <em>
    <span>closer </span>
  </em>
  <span>than ever, right then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would sit on the bed outside the bathroom, listen to the stream of water, and think. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would think about what Alex had told him about choosing himself, about how that was what was going to take care of him in the future instead of just going along with his parents’ wishes – and he would realise again and again how true that was, and how lucky he was to have made that decision.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would think about how happy he was, and how Charles and him had been living together for the better part of a year, and how they were in the middle of the eternity they had always talked about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His parents didn’t try to contact him again, and George was glad. He did love them, he loved them more than he could explain, but being close to them and talking to them took all the energy out of him. He needed strength that he didn’t have, and he thought it would be the best for him and them if he stopped trying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The end of George’s internship neared, and he had become so close to his colleagues and so integrated into the company that his department decided to host a farewell party for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was so rare for anyone to treat their intern so well, much less a big firm like theirs, and George was so grateful to all of them and everything they’d taught him that he decided he would bring Charles to the party so he could meet all of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had only been to the office a handful of times before, and only so he could grab George for lunch or deliver some to him. He had always tried to be professional and not too involved in George’s work, given the low status George had at the company, but George knew he always took interest in all his stories about his colleagues. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He came to George’s office that evening for the party dressed in a dark red shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and some dark jeans. He looked flustered when George met him in the lobby to take him upstairs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” George asked him, amused.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do I look alright?” Charles’s brow was furrowed, and he was tugging at his shirt. “Is this okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course it’s okay. You look very nice.” The dark red made Charles’s eyes pop. “You always look nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles tutted, though the furrow on his brow eased a little. “I just wanna give your colleagues a good impression.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You will,” George said, dragging him along. He couldn’t imagine anyone disliking Charles. “Come on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s colleagues took a liking to Charles </span>
  <em>
    <span>immediately</span>
  </em>
  <span>; they were all at least a couple of years older than George, so they all treated George like their little brother or their son, and they did the same to Charles the moment they saw him. They asked him about school and football and they told him stories about George, and Charles so effortlessly blended into the party that George thought he really was just being silly earlier when he was fretting about his clothes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a small buffet and a big chocolate cake, and though Charles didn’t so much like the cake, he found joy in feeding George slice after slice while George struggled to get him to eat something. George’s colleagues thought they were adorable. They hovered around Charles and George and they loved Charles and George so much and it suddenly made George so, so reluctant to leave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat alone in the corner of the meeting room where the party was being held, in one of the office chairs, as Charles got them some drinks. He watched Charles get distracted by a few of George’s colleagues on his way back, though he took no heed of it, and looked excited to speak to them with the two cups of fruit punch in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George couldn’t help but feel that his eternity with Charles was going to be put on hold once this internship ended and he had to move back for school.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles came bounding up to him, distracting him from that thought. He passed George one of the cups and rolled another chair over to join him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They said they’ll come watch my matches once in a while if I can get them some tickets,” he told George excitedly. “And they said that the marketing department might be looking for someone to do digital art or a more art-based type of strategy, and they thought I’d be able to help. Isn’t that cool?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled. “Yeah, that’s really cool.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Charles nudged him gently in the arm. “You look sad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just thinking about how sometimes, family can be the people you meet along the way, instead of who you’re born with.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s nice.” Charles leaned his head on George’s shoulder. “What do you think about your current family?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love them,” George whispered. “Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think my parents are proud of me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course they’re proud of you,” Charles said, softly, without missing a beat. “They looked so proud when you were telling them about this job. So, so proud. Your relationship with them might have changed but it has never changed the fact that you’re their son, and they’ll always be so happy to see you successful. I saw it on their faces. They’re so proud of you, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t thank me. I’m not just saying that because you want to hear it. I really, really think so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.” George placed a kiss on the top of Charles’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you more, Georgie. More than the moon loves the sea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George really, really loved it when Charles said that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His colleagues gave him an assortment of gifts for his farewell; there were a couple of notebooks, a fancy pen, a thermos with his name on it, a little preserved flower glass dome, and even a small cactus because George had mentioned once in passing that his soulmate liked little plants for their windowsill. They took it home in a box, which Charles insisted on carrying for the journey.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sat on the bed again, this time facing the window and their evergrowing line of plants, and listened as Charles showered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was going to miss this little room so much, and the couch that had a little dent on one of the cushions because Charles and George liked to fight for the same seat, and the microwave oven with the spoiled beep. The work tables, which they had to scrub clean the other day because of the paint stains Charles had given them. The creaky wardrobe. Their dining table with a folded piece of paper under one leg to keep it from rocking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed as the bathroom door opened and Charles stepped out, flooding the whole room in the scent of his shampoo. He sat down next to George, rubbing his hair dry with a towel. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatchu thinking about?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just how I’m gonna miss our first apartment,” George whispered. “I always sit here and listen to you shower. I love the sounds you always make when you move around the house. And when I move back into my dorm room, it’s just gonna be so quiet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. “That’s nice. I love all your sounds, too. Especially in the mornings.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I can just file for graduation. I won’t do my honours, I’ll graduate, and I’ll move in with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that. George. You’re not going to do that.” Charles tugged at George’s arm. “George. You’re not gonna give up your whole life for this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But what if this is what I want my life to be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It will be. I promise you. We’ll get a bigger apartment, in a better place, and we’ll live together always. But first, you have to finish your honours. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed. “It’s...it’s not going to change, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not,” Charles said softly. “The worst year of our lives is over, love. It’s over. We’ve done this once before, and we got through it. Now we’re stronger and we’re happier and the world is a bit better to us, and we’re gonna go at it again, and this time next year we’ll be looking for new jobs and a new place to stay. Yeah? It’s gonna come in no time at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The euphoria of the past year was hard to let go of. Granted, it came immediately after the worst months of George’s entire life, which made it just that much sweeter, but it didn’t make moving on from it any easier. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I guess one year is a short time when you look at it,” he finally said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Living apart doesn’t make me love you any less,” Charles whispered, like he knew it was exactly what George wanted to hear. “Okay? It doesn’t change our eternity.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. “Sorry. I was being silly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Charles tucked his head under George’s arm. His hair was damp against George’s shirt, and it made George smile. “George. You still have to watch me slog through my finals. We still have three weeks. I’m not done with you yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George chuckled. Honestly, the thought of watching Charles do all his projects and essays for his finals was enough to make him happy. “Thank you for coming to the party with me even though you had other stuff to do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you so much. More than the moon loves the sea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love it when you say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? I love telling you that. I feel like the moon and the sea have a very quiet but intimate relationship. They never have to tell each other anything, but they trust each other and love each other the same. Just like us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s mind just...worked in so many beautiful ways George didn’t understand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat there quietly for the rest of the night, listening to the house creak, just like they did on their very first day there.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That summer, George didn’t go home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In fact, he actively avoided going home, not even for the yearly holiday his family took with Alex’s. He heard from Alex that they weren’t going through with the holiday that year, and it made George feel a little bit guilty about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As it turned out, George needn’t have worried about it at all, because Alex’s family went on their own holiday, and they let Alex take George along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time, instead of going to the beach they went to every year, they went off-grid to a big cabin in the woods, close to a quiet lake. There was no phone signal and no internet, just Alex and George sitting by the lake every day, skipping stones and swimming in the clear water. They went boating and they barbecued late into the night, and every morning George would wander in the forest with Alex and his siblings, awestruck at all the green around him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was two weeks away from Charles, but it was two weeks well-spent; George was sure Charles appreciated it as much as he did. They hadn’t been apart for more than a few hours at once over the past year, and even though they lived well together, it was nice for them to have a break away from each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least, this time around, it was by their own will, and they weren’t being forced to be apart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the two weeks had ended, George was left with no place to go again. He couldn’t go home with Alex because his parents would be there. And it wasn’t like he could just randomly intrude on Charles’s family again. George literally had nowhere to go. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex’s parents gave him a ride back to the city, where George thought maybe he could find a temporary job and a place to stay until he could secure his hostel room again. If things didn’t work out, then George would figure something else out, but that was his primary intention, so Alex’s parents dropped him off at the storage place where he’d temporarily stashed all his things.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When they arrived at the building, Pierre and Charles were standing outside, waiting for them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t give himself any time to wonder why they were there. He jumped out of the car and ran straight at Charles, who was in mid-conversation with Pierre.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Charles gasped, startled and pushed backwards when George hugged him. His arms curled comfortably around George once he realised who it was. “Hey. Hi.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s tired of me now,” Alex said from behind George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m not,” Pierre chimed in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sound of Charles’s chuckle in George’s ear was like music. “Gross,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What are you doing here?” George asked him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We have a surprise for you,” Charles said. “It was Alex’s idea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it?” George asked, and the three of them looked at each other for a moment before deciding they’d let Alex tell George about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We know that the past year has been really tough on you,” he said. “So we’re gonna take you on a road trip. Just the four of us. We all chipped in a little and split your portion among the three of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guys…” George sighed. “You don’t have to. I’ll pay for my portion. I have some money saved up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’ve already paid,” Charles said, although George could tell he was blatantly lying. He pulled George excitedly towards the entrance to the storage building. “C’mon. Pack some of your things and we’ll start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So George exchanged his dirty holiday clothes for some new ones, and he packed a little backpack of other things, and he was led to the parking lot at the back of the building, where there was a rental minivan waiting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The summer sun turned the windows warm as Pierre drove them towards city limits with Alex in the passenger seat and Charles and George behind them, and George was peering out at the tall buildings when Charles pressed him against the door, sticking his head close to George’s and peering up eagerly at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll be fun, yeah? Maybe we can do this for our grad trip. Just the four of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George chuckled. Charles sure did like his found traditions. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you. And I missed you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too.” Charles looked tanner, and a little more fit, as if he’d spent the past two weeks under the sun. “You look very nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles giggled, and it sounded like wind chimes. “You look very nice, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George pressed his lips on Charles’s, and Charles leaned in closer, tucking himself into George’s arm. George was sure either Pierre or Alex could simply look in the rearview mirror and see them, but he suddenly didn’t care; he let himself be wedged between the seat and the door and he let himself get lost in Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew they were taking him on this trip because they knew he had nowhere to go, nowhere to call home, and they only wanted him to know he was always welcome with them. George knew that. He just didn’t expect the deep, deep happiness to overwhelm him and consume him whole the way it did. And he didn’t expect tears to overwhelm him, tears that accompanied the thought of how alone George felt just a year ago and how surrounded by love he was right then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you crying?” Charles’s voice was soft, like he knew George didn’t want Pierre and Alex to find out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just really happy,” George whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. He leaned his head on George’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about the next semester, okay?” he said. “We’ll all be here for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Since George had met Charles, he had trusted Charles with his entire life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he did the same that day; he put his whole life in Charles’s hands, and they both leaned on the sunny window and commented on everything they passed on their journey, and whenever Charles laughed, George felt a warmth in his heart that nothing else could ever replace. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished he could save the sound and replay it anytime he wanted. And he knew he was going to spend the rest of his life trying to make Charles laugh so he could hear it every day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their road trip across the country took them about a week and a half; there wasn’t really a plan, and they only stopped whenever they wanted to get food at the nearest town they could find, or when they had to get gas. They all took turns to drive and watch the scenery or sleep in the back seat, and even though it was the middle of the night sometimes when it was George’s turn to drive, Charles insisted on accompanying him in the front passenger’s seat, and he would talk to George and refuse to go to sleep, saying that he was afraid George would be lonely.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s favourite parts were the open highways with nothing around them; it was the summer, so everything was green, and though sometimes there was no sight of any civilisation, George felt so at peace accompanied only by the soft rumbling of their van’s wheels on the asphalt and the presence of his best friends in the world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he wasn’t driving, he spent most of his time close to the window. Charles would fall asleep on his shoulder and then wake up a while later feeling guilty about it, but he would sit quietly next to George, holding his hand, not seeming to care that George wasn’t talking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the last day of the first half of their trip, right before they turned back around to go home, Alex stopped the minivan at a secluded old town. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George followed curiously behind Alex as he got out of the car. There were only a few buildings, and it was more like a village than a town, so George wondered why they were stopping there. But Charles jogged after him and softly took his hand, and he smiled at George and George just completely forgot about everything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex led them along a dirty mud path and through a small forest into a clearing, which led to a cliff that overlooked the sea.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It looked just like home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It looked just like home, and George stopped next to Alex at the edge of the cliff, and the wind whipped so sharply and recognisably at George’s face that he started to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You couldn’t make it home this year, so we thought we’d bring home to you,” Alex said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George tugged at his hand until he could wrap Alex in a hug, and George was just. He missed home. He missed home so much, he missed his family the way they used to be and he missed sitting in the meadow with his best friend Alex and talking about their future. He missed home and he had never dared to tell anyone because he thought it was the biggest irony. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex squeezed him tight. “Don’t worry about it. Pierre and I found this place by accident last year when we were travelling and thought it really looked like our home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It really does.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex pulled his head away and tenderly wiped George’s cheeks. “Don’t cry, okay? We brought some food and we can sit and have a little picnic.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only then that George realised that Pierre had just been creeping along behind them instead of going ahead with Alex, and he was holding a bag full of gas station snacks and drinks, which they must’ve bought when George was asleep. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There had never been any need to feel any shame or embarrassment around Alex and Charles and Pierre the same way George did around his family. Never. They had always accepted him, even though his faith hadn’t been something they believed in. Even though he had fought with his parents so openly and bitterly. George never felt embarrassed around the three of them because he knew they would always, always accept him and support him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So that day, even though George was flustered that they were being so kind to him, he accepted it. He accepted all their concern and goodwill because he knew these were the people he would always feel comfortable around, who would always be there for him, and the only way George could show how grateful he was would be to accept everything they did for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat there for the rest of the afternoon, munching on their unhealthy snacks and talking about everything under the sun as the tall grass rustled around them. The sound of the sea was soothing as it hit the bottom of the cliff, and as the afternoon passed, George felt less and less preoccupied with the thought that in a few days, he would be faced with trying to set his life in order again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pierre and Alex wandered away for a while after they’d finished their snacks, leaving George and Charles alone. Charles nudged George around until they were back to back, Charles looking out at the blue sea and George facing in towards where the small green meadow met the forest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The last time you brought me home, we did this,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled. Charles was right, and Easter shouldn’t have counted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he was just glad that Charles associated this memory with something that they could do again together, and not with whatever that had gone down that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles,” George said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember when we first met, you told me you had always thought of your soulmate as the one who will show you the rest of the world?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for showing me the rest of mine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George couldn’t see Charles’s smile, but he felt it in his bones as Charles reached behind him and took George’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes, it feels like I’ve known you all my life,” he said softly. “I always saw you in the grey that was all around. And now I see you in all the blue. I’ve always known you and I’ve always loved you, and I’ve always waited for you to show me what the world could be. And I’m so happy that we’re here together, now. It doesn’t matter to me what we had to go through to get here. I’m just so happy to have you, George. I love you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Than the moon loves the sea?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. Always.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat there until there was just enough light for them to walk back unscathed through the forest, at which point Pierre and Alex returned and they went back to the minivan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The journey back home felt a lot shorter than the journey out, but George appreciated every moment of it, he cherished every second of the car being filled with laughter and loud storytelling, knowing that the thought of these three people was going to be the only thing that would pull him through his final year of university.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After they visited Charles’s family for a few more days at the end of summer, Charles had to go back to uni for football practice, and George decided to go back so he could find a job and a place to stay before the semester started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The antique bookstore was no longer hiring, so George looked elsewhere and managed to start working part-time as a barista. He had to work in different shifts, but at least he could plan it around his lectures when they started again, and it also paid a little better.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stayed in a cheap student hostel until the dorms reopened for the semester, and Charles worried incessantly about him. He was worried about George having no space to put his things, or that someone would steal them while he was out at work. He worried about George sharing a bathroom with a ton of strangers as the rooms changed hands with the tourist season. He worried about George’s hostel applications and if he was having enough rest or if he was sleeping well.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George had enough of him after a while, and it was their first little tiff since they’d met, when George lost it at Charles and said that he didn’t need to bother all the time and he was being suffocating and acting like George wasn’t mature enough to handle things on his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he hung up the phone on Charles, and Charles spent the entire day crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only cared. He was only trying to love George from a city four hours away because he hated being so far away from George, and he hated that the three of them were together and George was alone. And maybe George didn’t want that, and maybe that was going to have to be okay, but it didn’t stop it from hurting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn’t dare call George for a few days, afraid he would snap at him again. He just sat, holding his phone, wanting so badly to know if George was doing okay, if he’d had enough rest, and if he was having his meals. He was brought back to a period of his life he’d never wanted to relive again, when he and George were forced to be apart and Charles hadn’t been allowed to call George on his phone.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end of that week, Alex appeared at Charles’s door holding a paper bag of food.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you order this?” he asked Charles. “You could’ve just texted me and I’d have gotten you some.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t order anything,” Charles said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, it’s addressed to you.” Alex hooked the paper bag on Charles’s hand. “People usually go downstairs to collect it but I saw your room number.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles closed the door and opened the bag. Inside was a delicious-smelling container of butter chicken and rice, along with some pakoras, a mango lassi, and a big bag of potato chips. Charles checked the order receipt and saw a little message written under the order notes.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>I’m sorry I snapped at you. I know you’re only trying to take care of me. I love you so much. Call me when you get this. G.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought that George had called for food delivery as a surprise for Charles just to apologise brought a smile to Charles’s face. He took another sniff of the butter chicken, but decided to call George first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” he said when George took the call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, love.” George sounded a bit hesitant, a bit afraid to talk to Charles. “How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just got the food you ordered. It smells really nice. Thank you, but you really didn’t have to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you mad at me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry. I’m just a little wound up. Just...with everything that’s going on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Charles whispered. “I get that. It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t say that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you want me to say?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That you’re angry, that it hurt you, or anything. You don’t always have to forgive everybody.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just –” Charles tried his hardest not to start crying, but he’d missed George so much and to hear his voice again overwhelmed Charles. “I don’t know how to be angry. I’ve always given – all my life, I’ve been giving and giving. I don’t know anything else. All my life I’ve only wanted to take care of other people. And now I don’t know what else I can do besides care about you and look after you. But I’ll try. I’ll try to let go. I’m sorry that it bothers you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It doesn’t bother me. I know it’s not an excuse but I was really wrung out and that’s why I flared up at you and I’m really sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles sighed. “Yeah, I’ll – I’ll ease off. I won’t keep bothering you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles. Love. I love it when you fuss over me. I really, really do. I’m sorry. Just – just never, ever change. Okay? I love you so much, just the way you are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm. Yeah.” Charles took a deep breath so he could stop crying. “I love you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you. It’s so boring when you’re not in my ear asking about me constantly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That actually made Charles laugh. “It’s boring when I don’t ask about you constantly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The chuckle George gave was soft and adorable. “I’m moving back into the dorms in two weeks. So you don’t have to worry so much anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Charles sighed again. “George. I just hate it that we’re all three here together and you’re all alone there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s just harder because we’ve just spent an entire year together.” George’s voice was soft. “And it’s the first time we’re apart since...you know, since I left home. But we’re gonna be alright. Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. Okay. George, I…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I guess it does hurt a little bit. You know, feeling like I couldn’t call you. It takes me back to what we had to be like before, with your parents and your phone. But I don’t want you to feel guilty about it. I just...you’re right and maybe I should get in touch with my feelings a bit more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’m so sorry. I – I really know you’re only doing it out of concern. But I’m happy that you’re okay with saying it aloud now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George, love. Is it okay if I...if I go over and help you move back into your room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George gave a soft laugh. “I was actually gonna ask you if it’s okay if we visit each other on weekends? I know you have training most Saturdays, but...I could go visit you. And we can spend time together. And when you have away matches I’ll just stay at home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Charles smiled. “That’d be nice. If I choose my courses properly I can have Mondays off and then I can visit you after training as well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” George sounded overjoyed and it just made Charles so happy. “It’s a deal. And I’ll see you in two weeks.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you about to have dinner? Let’s have dinner together.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I’m just about to go heat up my leftover rice from yesterday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” George gave a little giggle. “Say it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to eat better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wish I could kiss you right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was Charles’s turn to giggle. “Gross.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George babbled away over speakerphone as Charles finished his very big surprise dinner, and over the evening it was as though their little fight had never happened, and Charles was reminded that it was often the simplest things he did with his George that made him the happiest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A week before the semester started, George took the train over so he could meet up with Andy, whose soulmate Rose was graduating from the other city university.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed pretty excited about it, and although Charles knew George hadn’t talked to Andy much since he’d left, he had been quite close to them while everything was going down, and to see them again meant quite a lot to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Charles went down with him to a nice restaurant, and he watched George pour all his savings for that week into a nice meal to celebrate the graduation of somebody he had never even met before.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had seen photos of Andy before, and they looked exactly the same, besides the fact that their hair had grown a bit longer. They were wearing a formal shirt and pants and some loafers, and Rose was in a nice summer dress. Andy looked so </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy </span>
  </em>
  <span>to see George, and they ran right to him and hugged him so tightly George’s face actually turned pink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you?” they asked. “You look nice. Healthier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” George grinned. “You look nice, too. You look happier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Andy smiled at him. “I’m happier.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” Rose piped in, pulling on Andy’s arm. “Look! It’s my soulmates-in-law.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy laughed, and it was such a happy sound, and the way they looked at Rose was filled with so much love. “You keep saying that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s funny. Tell me how many other people in the world have soulmates-in-law like the four of us do.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy rolled their eyes playfully. “C’mon,” they said to George and Charles. Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you everything.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They got a nice table by the window and managed to order their food while Andy caught George up on everything. They hadn’t cut off ties with their parents, but they had stopped being dependent on them, seldom went back home, and mostly spoke to them over the phone. They were graduating in a month, and then they were going to move somewhere far away with Rose where their parents wouldn’t know. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a more gradual move than George’s had been, but Charles guessed that Andy’s parents had taken George’s departure as a sign to ease off on Andy in case they lost Andy forever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though Charles guessed they were pretty close to that ending.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So what do you think?” George asked when there was a break in the conversation. He gave Charles’s hand a squeeze. “Andy is beautiful, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. If you’d married her, I wouldn’t have been mad,” Charles said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Them. If I’d married them.” George nudged him softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sorry.” Charles felt a blush hang over his cheeks. He wasn’t too used to these things yet. “I mean, if you’d married them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry about it.” Andy’s smile was big and genuine and welcoming. “Hey. Imagine if I’d married George and you’d married Rose. We’d be undefeatable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George burst into laughter at that, sending Charles into giggles as well. “Maybe we should’ve done that and I wouldn’t have needed to run away from home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We could always go back home and do that,” Andy teased.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to.” George reached over and pulled Charles close, squeezing him tight under his arm, almost like was wrestling with Charles. “I don’t care. I’m happy now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m happy, too.” Andy smiled. “George. Remember we always wished that one day we could look back on all of that and laugh? I think today’s that day.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was quiet for a while as the four of them sat there, Charles and George across from Andy and Rose, none of them actually looking directly at each other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Charles knew they were all thinking the exact same thing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Where they all were a year ago, all about to lose each other in one way or another – and where they were right then, all sitting around a table heaped with food, talking about it like it had only been a shared nightmare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their conversation slowly eased towards their plans for the year. Andy’s degree was similar to Charles’s, but they were gearing towards a game design direction. Though Charles was much more interested in physical forms of art, he enjoyed listening to them talk about it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George had fun, too, his face lighting up whenever any one of them asked him about what he planned to do. He told them all about his final project. He told them about all the things he remembered from his internship. His eyes were as bright as a starry night sky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Andy and Rose were more than happy to listen to him babble away – and so was Charles, honestly. He’d already heard all of these things multiple times from George, but he never got tired of it, and every time he heard about it he was fascinated all over again. And to see Andy and Rose as interested as they were really brought a sort of warmth to Charles’s heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As much as Charles had tried, as much as he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>still trying</span>
  </em>
  <span> to understand what George was going through, he was sure he would never come as close as Andy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That day, he finally understood what George had meant when he’d said all those months ago that Andy was the only person who knew exactly what he was experiencing. Not Charles. Just Andy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Charles wasn’t even mad; he wasn’t even jealous, or too curious anymore. He knew he didn’t need to try because he would never understand. And he knew George accepted that fact.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So all he did, all he could do – was sit there and watch George finally be himself, surrounded by people who truly loved him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George loved the routine he had with Charles, visiting each other every weekend; whenever it was his turn, he would get on the train right after his last lecture on Friday, have dinner on the way, and reach Charles just in time to get into bed with him. On Saturday, he would go to the school field and watch Charles’s football training. On Sunday, he would stay as late as he could before catching the train back in time for his Monday morning lecture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a long journey both ways, but George liked to spend the time working on his final project, which was supposed to be a full-fledged advertising campaign for a fictional company and its products, including organizing events and creating media. He had to come up with a detailed strategy on how to pitch their product and handle public relations. It was a lot of work, but George thought that by the end of it, he’d find a direction he wanted to follow the most.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had his own final project, but he liked spending the four-hour train journey painting, and every time he visited George on Saturday evenings, he would have a new painting for George. George ran out of space to display them all on his table, and Charles got a little upset about it so George bought a special folder and put them all together so he could look through them every night before he went to bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George just loved those days when he got to wake up next to Charles. It was the only thing that carried him through the week, the only thing that kept him going. And when he couldn’t be there, he would spend hours every night talking to Charles on the phone as they both went about on their nightly activities, doing work, reading notes, or just sitting and browsing the internet, and it felt just like having Charles next to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It got harder when the football season started with a slew of away games that Charles had to travel for, and their visits stopped for a couple of weeks. So when George found out that it was his turn to go to Charles on the weekend of Charles’s birthday, he was delighted; he had a match the day before, but it just meant that George could watch him, and he’d managed to pool some unwanted tickets from Pierre and Charles’s teammates so he could get his ex-colleagues to join them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He called Charles excitedly once he saw the screenshot of Charles’s schedule that he’d sent George, but it was late at night after George’s shift at the coffee shop, and Charles sounded tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so excited to see you,” he said, anyway, his voice soft as velvet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too,” George whispered. He was in bed, and it was comfortable, and he had a hoodie on that smelled just like Charles. “How was training?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tiring. But I had fun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George remembered thinking how Charles must’ve been such a passionate, dedicated person, given that he was so committed to art and sports.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Two years down the road, Charles had never stopped proving that to George every single day. He had never once stopped dedicating all his time and energy to the people and things he loved.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope I dream of you again,” Charles said sleepily. “I dreamt of you last night.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? What was it about?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were my TA for renaissance and for some reason you were always walking around shirtless.” Charles sighed. “And I had a really massive crush on you. And we were making out one time in an empty classroom.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh?” George couldn't help but smile. He turned in bed and stretched out. “That’s kinda sexy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, it was kinda hot.” Charles gave a little giggle. “Uh, I woke up with a...you know. A hard-on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George burst into laughter. That horny little bastard. “Wish I’d been there,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm. Me, too.” Charles sighed. “Love you, Georgie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“More than the moon loves the sea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George listened to Charles fall asleep, and sometimes that was good enough; for nights he had to be apart from Charles, just knowing that Charles was there, not too far away, was enough for George. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>*</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The match that weekend was exciting, to say the least, and it definitely was the right one for George and his ex-colleagues to go to watch. They were locked at 1-1 for most of the game, but Charles’s team wasn’t playing too well and gave away two penalties near the final whistle, both of which Charles saved. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The team celebrated it like a win, even though it was only the beginning of the season and no one could tell which direction it would eventually go. Charles got a little medal for MVP, then his teammates gathered around him and threw him in the air, and amidst their yelling, the noise of the crowd, and the distorted sound of the person yelling over the microphone, all George could hear was Charles’s twinkling laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He resisted the urge to shout at them about being too rough with his Charles, but Charles eventually struggled out of their grasp and charged towards George, crashing into the front railing of the bleachers as he attempted to hug George over it. He was still giggling, now into George’s ear, and George felt his heart swell with pride.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, love,” he whispered. “Hmm. You smell really bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I missed you so much,” Charles cooed. He squeezed George more tightly, and George lifted him so he could clamber over the rails. “Did you enjoy yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I did. And I’m so, so proud of you, and I’m so happy I was here to see it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles gave him a long, loud smooch. Then he seemed to remember that George’s ex-colleagues were there, so he pulled away with a shy smile. “Hey, everyone,” he said softly. “Thank you for coming to watch me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone took turns to slap him on the shoulder as George stood holding his boots and gloves and his shiny medal. And George – George was just so, so proud, he didn’t know what to say. He knew nothing he said would ever be enough to convey what he wanted to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he had ever wanted to see was Charles being happy and successful, and that day, it felt the closest George had ever been to achieving that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stayed a while catching up with George’s ex-colleagues, but it was tradition for Charles’s team to celebrate birthdays, so Charles promised they would all meet again the next time George came over to spend the weekend, and the two of them headed to a steakhouse with Charles’s team.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles plastered himself by George’s side throughout the night, although he was tugged around by different people in all the chaos. He swallowed his chunk of steak like it was nothing, then eyed George’s so eagerly that George couldn’t bear not to give it to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the end of the night, they walked back to the dorms, Pierre trailing behind them until they picked up Alex on the way, outside the building he’d popped away to do a delivery for. Then they continued walking beyond the gates, so George just assumed they wanted some alone date time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had to open the door for Charles because his arms were full with all his presents. Charles’s cheeks were still flushed pink as he put them all down, and he looked so </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy</span>
  </em>
  <span> and it pulled at George’s heart, and just like every other time he’d been here, he didn’t want the night to end so Charles wouldn’t stop being this happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After their shower George finally had the chance to give Charles the gift he’d gotten him. Like every year he’d known Charles, Charles had told George he didn’t need a present from him, but George had been thinking about this present for ages and he couldn’t possibly not get it for Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s wait until midnight,” Charles said. The digits on the clock read </span>
  <em>
    <span>11:38</span>
  </em>
  <span>. “Then I can open this on my birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a big, childish grin on his face. George realised Charles been revealing more of his sentimental, clingy side over the course of their relationship, and George didn’t mind it one bit. He loved being fussed over like that, and for someone to remember little details about him to try and make him happy, and not mind being silly or goofy around him. He loved that someone loved him enough to want to spend all this time with him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He loved that someone loved him the way he was without trying to change him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had always loved and cherished the simplest things. He didn’t need any grand gestures or big gifts. All he wanted was to know that he had George, and to spend time with George, doing nothing at all or something as simple as eating dinner. And George loved it, not just because it was easy to make Charles happy, but also because Charles was the sort of person George wanted to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he sat there with Charles, quietly, holding his hand for fifteen minutes, the two of them just smiling at each other. It was just before midnight when Charles suddenly lifted up his shirt and pointed at the developing bruise on his left rib.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I bonked myself on the railing when I was hugging you earlier,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George tutted. “Does it hurt?” he asked, twisting Charles around so he could look at it under the light. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Maybe you can kiss it better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not flirting with me right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles giggled. “You can’t stop me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George decided the only way to stop him would be to kiss him, so he did just that, following suit when Charles’s lips turned up in a smile. Charles pressed close to him, climbing into his lap and hanging his arms over George’s shoulders. There was a soft thump as he let go of the wrapped gift and it landed behind George. His skin was cold, and he shivered when George slid his hand under his shirt, keening against George with a chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ouch. That’s my bruise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed and pulled away reluctantly. He bent over lower and pressed a gentle kiss on the forming bruise. “Better?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” Charles’s hadn’t stopped giggling but it hadn’t stopped being contagious. He settled with sitting between George’s legs, his legs hooked behind George’s back. “Much better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re so silly.” George tapped him on the nose. He reached behind him and found the gift that Charles had let go of. “C’mon. Open your present.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Under the wrapping paper was a gift box containing two pairs of matching bracelet charms. Each pair contained one with a red tulip, and another one with an ocean wave on one side and a crescent moon on the other.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“One pair for you and one pair for me,” George said softly. “Happy birthday, love. I love you so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. I love them.” Charles’s voice had subsided to a whisper. He picked up one of the pairs. “They’re so beautiful. C’mon, I’ll put yours on for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They helped each other slide on the charms, and Charles looked like he was about to cry as he examined the charms, turning them around under his soft fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. No crying.” George pulled him close again. “You know I love you when you’re being silly, but don’t cry about this.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just happy. Like you were in Amsterdam.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled. He pulled away again and cupped Charles’s cheeks, and the smile returned to Charles’s face when George kissed him on the forehead. “Do you know what they represent?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nodded. He held his wrist up and turned the charms again. “The tulip for Amsterdam. And the other one is because I love you more than the moon loves the sea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Smart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s smile grew prouder. “George. I’ve loved this bracelet more than life since you gave it to me. And I love that one day it’s gonna be filled up entirely with all the things that mean so much to the both of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too,” George whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They settled into bed quietly, the excitement of the day finally taking its toll on them. Charles’s new medal hung on the knob of his wardrobe together with a few others he’d gotten, and it glimmered under the fuzzy glow of the streetlights outside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles fell asleep first, tired out from his football game. His head was pressed snugly under George’s chin and his arm slung across George’s chest, and as George hugged him close and looked up at the ceiling, he realised there were new tiny stickers that twinkled in the dark.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were arranged in the shape of the Libra and Aquarius constellations, and George knew that Charles had only pasted them up there because they would remind him of George. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you so much,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d thought Charles was already too deeply asleep to respond, but Charles pushed his head more tightly under George’s chin, messing up his hair even further.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm,” he murmured. “You’re an idiot.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George laughed, and he was pretty sure Charles really was asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He smiled up at the little personal glittering sky on the ceiling until he fell asleep and dreamed of wandering a large green meadow with his Charles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Charles had never been a person for big parties, so his birthday that year was just the same quiet affair it had been every year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He woke up buried under George, and after several minutes of trying to get out from under him, he decided he would just go back to sleep. He woke up again about an hour later to the smell of coffee made with hot water from the pantry, and George sipping it while sitting at Charles’s table just watching Charles sleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” he said when Charles sat up. “Happy birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning, love. Thank you.” Charles smiled. “Is there coffee for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brush your teeth first. Disgusting.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles did so reluctantly, then headed out for more coffee and brunch with Alex and Pierre. It was a nice, bright little place that Alex recommended, and Charles enjoyed all the little tiered pastry stands that they had at their table. The coffee was delicious, and George seemed to enjoy the tea. The eggs were soft and creamy, and all the pastries they ordered were tasty, and George kept plonking them on Charles’s plate, insisting that he try everything.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pierre and Alex chattered away about nerdy science things from across them as usual. Charles and George had discussed this numerous times before, about how Pierre and Alex had spent their whole lives looking for each other, even if they didn’t know it themselves. Even after more than two years of being together, they still acted like it was their first month, giggling and sharing little whispers and smiling at each other like idiots, and Charles genuinely thought that this happiness was everything that they both deserved, and to witness his best friends be so happy was just such an accomplishment for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They got a cake for Charles and bought supplies for a little picnic, then Alex grabbed his guitar and they sat under their usual tree in the school field helping him to find words that rhymed so he could write another song. Alex’s friends Lando and Layla passed by on their way back from the lab; Charles knew them from all the times he’d hung out with Alex and Pierre, so he invited them to stay, much to Alex’s exasperation, because they started teasing him about all the silly things he did in the biochemistry lab while trying to do his final project.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All their stories and laughter and songwriting lasted them long into the evening, as did their snacks, and just as the sun set they all sang a birthday song for Charles and watched him make a wish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles’s wish that year was simple.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wished that he and George would always be surrounded by people who loved then, by friends who were like family, just like they were that day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though it was the simplest of birthdays, he spent it with his loved ones; with his lifelong friend Pierre and his soulmate Alex, with his warm and caring and humorous friends Lando and Layla, and with the love of his life George – so Charles really didn’t have anything else to ask for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other four left after sunset, leaving Charles and George alone in the dark field. The noise from the nearby main street subsided after a while, and George took Charles’s hand and led him to the middle of the field, where they laid on their backs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The usual stars began to appear after they’d stared at the sky for long enough, and George found Charles’s hand in the grass and took it in his. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I saw the stars on your ceiling,” he said softly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. “They remind me of you,” he whispered. “And how we’ll always have each other.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George brought Charles’s hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. “I love you so much. I hope you enjoyed yourself today.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I really did. I had such a good time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you love the simplest things, but you know I wouldn’t mind at all if you expect something more from me, you know?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t expect anything more,” Charles said. “I just want you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you happy, love? With me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m very happy. I’ve never been this happy in my life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too.” Charles could hear the smile in George’s voice. “I love you, Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too.” Charles felt this warmth that almost made him cry, this familiar, overwhelming warmth that always threatened to eat him from the inside out. “The sky always reminds me of you. In the day, because it’s blue and clear and happy. In the night, because there are stars, and sometimes I can see the moon, and it reminds me of the sea, which is also blue.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love how your mind works.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George. I love you so much. Thank you for spending time with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That night seemed to last forever and it also seemed to end too soon at the same time, but Charles cherished every second of it, lying under the blanket of sparse stars with George, talking about everything and nothing at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George was making good progress on his final project by the end of the year, after numerous changes in his project plan and consultations with his advisor. Charles, though, had to make one art piece each in the style of five chosen art styles using at least three different media, so he spent most of his time in his advisor’s studio sketching and re-sketching, trying to reach a point where he could comfortably start actually making art. It was getting much harder for him to travel to meet George, but George could easily bring his work with him everywhere on his laptop, so he found himself paying more visits to Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was planning to spend a few days with him before they went back to Charles’s hometown for the Christmas holidays, but since their plans for the exact day weren’t concrete and Charles was too busy anyway, George made an impulse decision to make a detour back home before going to Charles in the city.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t think too much about it – he didn’t want to, he wanted to just let his feelings lead him, although that had usually been his downfall in the past. He put the box containing the tulip earrings in his pocket and followed the pull of his body towards home, too tired to provide any resistance. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t tell Charles about it, knowing that Charles would worry and he would insist on coming home with George for moral support and there was no way he had time for that. George didn’t remember one day since they’d met that Charles didn’t worry about him. He didn’t want to make it even more of a bother for Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex was already back home, having taken the train back right after his last final. George had only told him vaguely of his plans.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The rush of the train pulling into the station and the scent of the cool, crisp air that smelled heavily of the musky wilderness that surrounded the station brought George back to a place in his mind he thought he would never visit again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t even know what he was going to do here. Maybe he would just spend the day and get the hell out of there before the morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, he began to regret the way he had so willingly followed his heart back here.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed. Whatever it was, he was already there, so he hoisted his backpack over his shoulders and started walking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The small coffee place he used to go to was still there, though it was quite empty on that late Wednesday morning. George still enjoyed their coffee; it was miles better than the blander, more processed, typical city coffee that he served at work. George sat at the window for hours, watching people go by, sipping at his large coffee and chewing slowly on his bagel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next place – the </span>
  <em>
    <span>only </span>
  </em>
  <span>other place he could think to visit next, was his church.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, it was the first place where George had realised that maybe it wasn’t a sin to be who he was. The first place where he’d actually started to find himself and understand himself and God’s plan for him. It would forever hold a special place in his heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked with his head down, terrified that he would run into his mother or his father on the way. He wouldn’t know what to say to them. He wouldn’t know how to look at them without crying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George spent a few minutes examining the little posters about all the Christmas festivities that hung on the bulletin board at the front door before he headed further inside. The main hall was quiet, with only a priest in the front row of the pew, and George himself. George found a seat near the back, signed the Cross, and started to pray.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Dear Heavenly Father, thank You for granting me a safe journey here. Thank You for all your blessings this year and all the lessons that You have taught me. I have never been more in touch with who I am and what I want to be than I am right now, and I am grateful for all Your guidance and acceptance. Lord, thank You for blessing me with a place to stay, a job, and sustenance every day. Thank You for blessing me with Charles, and with so many friends who care for me and want to help me. Thank You for everything that You have provided me with. Father, please bless dad and ma with happiness and good health, and the strength to go on if they want to do it without me. I know You will continue to love them just as You have always loved me. I place all my trust in You, and all the happiness of my loved ones in Your hands. Amen.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>The hall was eerily quiet, and George heard the echoes of the priest’s footsteps as he headed towards the back rooms. He sat for a while longer, staring up at the cross and basking in the silence, before deciding to go outside to the back garden.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a cool breeze blowing, but it was sunny. George put his backpack down on a bench and pulled his jacket sleeves over his wrists. There was a big rose bush in the corner, and although it was winter and nothing was blooming just yet, it reminded him of Rose and Andy, and it made him smile at the thought that they were both happy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was the soft tapping of footsteps on the small concrete path in the garden and rustling as they hit the grass. George didn’t mind so much sharing the space, but he hoped whoever it was wouldn’t try to talk to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George?” All George’s hopes shattered when that curious voice called out to him – not only because it meant his peace was being disturbed, but also because he recognised that voice, and it made his heart sink.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was his mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George,” she said again, stopping next to him. “Hi, baby. I didn’t know you were coming home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, ma.” George was suddenly so tired. The feeling hit him out of nowhere. “I wasn’t sure if I was going to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Come home, let me make you dinner tonight.” She sounded so eager and happy to see George, and George hated what he had to say.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want to, thank you, ma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause as George’s mother swallowed loudly, and George felt guilty for rejecting her, but he just couldn’t bring himself to go back home. “How are you?” she asked, still looking at George, like she was trying to find out all the parts of his life he had kept away from her for the last year and a half. “You’ve grown. You look stronger. How is everything?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m alright,” George said softly. “Ma, I just – are you going to be mean to me again? Just tell me if you have anything to say to me. I don’t – I don’t need all these courtesies if you’re just going to hurt me with your words again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was another short silence before ma asked, “Did you bring Charles with you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shook his head. He crossed his arms over his chest. “He doesn’t know I’m here. I didn’t tell him because he’ll worry about me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ma nodded. “I...George, I have something to tell you. About your dad and me. Don’t worry, it’s not anything serious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s heart sank at the thought that his parents were having trouble with each other because of him. “Are you…” He avoided saying the word ‘divorce’. “Did anything happen between you two?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no, it’s nothing serious. I’ve been wanting to tell you that me and dad are going for some counselling. To try and understand everything better. We’re talking to a nice Catholic counseller who will help us understand God’s plan for you and how we can learn to accept it. We started going after seeing you over Easter. I’ve been meaning to tell you but you haven’t called.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George felt his heart flutter like a butterfly that had just grown wings, a feeling that he had become so unfamiliar with regarding his parents. “That’s...that’s very nice,” he whispered. “Thank you, ma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just want you to know that we’re trying our best,” she said. George turned to her, and she was smiling, albeit a little hesitantly. “I know that you tried your best to understand us. You tried your best to see the good in what we wanted you to do. I know you did. And now we’re going to do the same for you. We never wanted to lose you, George. But I know that we don’t have the right to ask you to come back. Not right now. But maybe...maybe eventually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed. His mother looked so hopeful but George just...wasn’t ready to start forgiving his parents. He loved them and he missed them but they’d hurt him so deeply that the wound had yet to be closed, much less start to heal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma, I just have one question,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What is it, George?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“God made me the way I am and God loves me the way I am. Every way that I am, He accepts me and He loves me. Charles loves me the same way. He loves me just like how you’ve always told me stories about my soulmate loving me. The way God does. The same unfaltering, undoubting way. The same faithful, forgiving way. Charles loves me the same way God does.” George turned away from his mother and hung his head, afraid to witness the look on her face. “Why can’t you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We do, George, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then why did you keep trying to change me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ma sighed, and she went quiet again, and George. George just felt horrible. He felt horrible being back home and he felt horrible because he knew he would feel this way and yet he came back. He always came back hoping to find peace but he never managed to, and he always left feeling worse than he did when he arrived.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re sorry that we tried to change you,” ma finally said. “We’re slowly starting to understand God’s plan for you and why it was different from anything we’d ever imagined. I love you, George. I love you so much and I’m sorry that we let you down, that we didn’t make you feel comfortable with us. I’m sorry that we made you feel as if we didn’t love you for who you are. I – I want to love you the same way God does. I know no one loves us more than God does, but I always tried to come close. I know now that it was more selfish and unforgiving than God’s love. And I’m – I’m gonna try and understand that, and change that. George, baby, I promise you that your dad and me, we’ll get there. That we’ll try for you just like you tried for us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George knew that it was going to take some time before he knew if they were going to be able to mend their relationship. Time that he had, but wasn’t sure if he was willing to give. He wasn’t sure if it was going to end up causing him more pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that you trusted us, George, baby,” ma whispered. “I’m sorry that we let you down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. “Thank you, ma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They stood quietly for a while, neither of them really wanting to continue the conversation, but neither of them wanting to leave, either. George hadn’t found the peace he had unknowingly come here to find, but he didn’t feel like walking away. His bracelet tinkled as he dropped his hands into his pockets, and the sound made his mum speak again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I noticed that you and Charles have the same bracelet,” she said, gesturing at George’s wrist. “Did you get them for each other?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I got him one for his birthday, and one for myself.” George smiled, spreading the charms out with his fingers. “It’s been two years now. I got one with a blue charm for him, and a green one for myself, and over these two years we’ve just been buying other charms to fill it up. They all mean different things to us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s very beautiful. I like the one with the flower. What do they all mean?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was – he was just so happy his mother was showing some interest in his and Charles’s relationship. That she was really trying, and not just saying that she was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The green one is for the colour of Charles’s eyes,” he said. “This one has both our zodiac signs, and this one has a four-leaf clover for luck. Charles gave them to me last year on my birthday. These last two, we have a matching pair. The tulip is for our first trip together, and the last one with a moon and a wave is because Charles likes to tell me he loves me more than the moon loves the sea.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s – that’s really nice, George.” Ma sounded – she sounded happy and sad at the same time.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George reached into his pocket and took out the little velvet box with the tulip earrings. “Ma,” he said, softly. “This is for you. My birthday this year, Charles brought me to Amsterdam, and we saw these, and they reminded me of you so we got them. But I never got to give them to you. So...yeah. I hope you like them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ma turned them around in her hands for a few moments, and she had a soft smile on her face, and it made George want to cry. “Thank you. I love them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I...when I saw them, I thought of you, and I knew you were gonna like them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you have a good time in Amsterdam? What did you do?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” George smiled. “We just walked around a lot and went to a few art museums. Charles was so happy. He was so happy and he told me so much about art and he had such a good time. You should’ve seen him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>”But it was your birthday.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” George said. Sometimes, thinking about it made his heart ache. “Ma. All this time, since we met, Charles has been trying to make me happy. He’s been trying to make sure I’m comfortable and I have everything I need and that I know he wouldn’t blame me if I chose God over him. He’s pushed aside everything else, even his own feelings, for me. There was never one day that he put himself before me. So for my birthday, I just – for my birthday I only wanted to see him happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ma nodded down at her hands. “Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When we first met...when we first got together, I never managed to make him happy,” George whispered. “He was always worrying about me and wondering if I would leave him for God. I never made him happy like I wanted to. And I just. I just want him to be happy. And I’m gonna spend the rest of my life trying to do that. When I see him happy...ma, that’s the best thing to me. To see him happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What about you?” she asked. “George, are you happy?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m very happy, ma,” George whispered. “I know you and dad don’t want to believe that. I know you’ve been hoping that I realise I’m not happy with Charles so I’ll come back and be by your side. But I am. I really am so, so happy, he makes me so happy and he takes such good care of me and he’s never once thought of giving up on me. And like I said before, he’s always hopeful and encouraging when you try to contact me, and he hopes that I’ll have a good relationship with you despite you hating him so much. I know you don't accept that. But that’s what it is.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ma was silent for a long time, watching the rose bush rustle in the wind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You were right,” she finally said, softly. “We liked Charles when you first brought him home, and I still think he’s a very talented and smart young man, and he has a very kind heart. And I believe you when you say he’s done nothing but try his best to mend your relationship with us. We just...give us a little more time. Yeah? And we’ll – we’ll give you all the time you need to accept us again. Just like how we should’ve learned about you and learned to accept you from the start.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded, pressing his mouth shut so he wouldn’t start to cry. “And I – the next time you see Charles, will you be rude to him again?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We – we’ll start off by treating him like any other friend you have. Okay? Then we’ll work up from there. Is that okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George guessed that was better than nothing. “He’s done nothing wrong, ma,” he said. “Nothing. He didn’t ask for this, either, all he asked for was a soulmate to love. Instead, he got me, and he got all the battles that I fought and all the doubt that I brought to our relationship. And he got that awful treatment from you and dad. It’s been so, so unfair to him. He never asked for any of this, but he bit his lip and powered through it all. For me. </span>
  <em>
    <span>For me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, George, baby. I know that he loves you. I’m sorry that – I’m sorry we were so rude to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just feel like – I’m never going to be over it, you know? The way you were to me. The way you were to Charles. We didn’t ask for this. God gave it to us, and we tried to work it out together, and all you did was try to tear us apart. You tried to go against what God gave us, ma. Don’t you see that? I just – I don’t think I can – that we can ever get over this. I’m not saying this so you’ll give in to me, ma, okay? I don’t want you to give in for the sake of giving in. I want you to understand. If you never give in to me, if you stop trying to understand me, that’s fine with me. Because I’m done with trying to convince you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mum was quiet then, again. This time, she was holding the box of earrings up to the sunlight, watching them twinkle. When she spoke again, her voice was shaking, like she had started to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George. I – all I’m asking from you is that we don’t lose touch.” It always broke George’s heart to see his mother cry, and even though he hadn’t spoken to her properly in almost a year, it wasn’t any different that day. “You’re my son, you’re my precious son, you’re my baby boy, and I don’t want to lose you. And I promise you that I’m trying my best, and I just hope that you’ll stay in touch with us, and you’ll call us or let us call you from time to time. I miss you so much, baby. I’m so sorry. Ma’s so, so sorry.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry too, ma. I’m sorry I said all those hurtful things after I left. I never meant to disappoint you or make you feel ashamed that I’m your son. And I miss you too, and I always think about you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not ashamed that you’re my son,” ma said. “I need some time – your dad and I, we need some time to learn. And I understand that you need some time away from us, too, to learn to forgive us. We'll just...we’ll deal with it, we’ll give it some time, and hopefully by the end, we’ll all understand each other a bit better. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded, and he felt so sad and so tired that he could barely stand, so he pulled his mum into a hug, because no matter how angry he’d been at her earlier and how much he thought he resented her, George’s mother would always be his biggest, strongest pillar of strength.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you so much, ma,” he mumbled into her shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, George,” she said, softly, her voice faltering. “And I’m so proud of you, I’m so proud that you’ve found out who you are and who you want to be, and I’m so proud that you’ve been handling life so well.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re still a part of it,” George whispered. “You know that, ma? You and dad – you’ll always be a part of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, George, baby. I’m – I’m so, so proud of you. And your father might not have said much to you, and he might not act like it, but he misses you a lot, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George swallowed the wave of sobs that threatened to pull him apart. “Mhm. Ma. I’m sorry I ran away.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And I’m sorry that we forced you to. I’m sorry that we tried to control you and we made decisions for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m – I’m not ready. To be here, mentally, with you two. I’m sorry. In my head, I’m still so far away from you, and I’m not...I’m not comfortable being close to you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” ma whispered. “It’s...it’s difficult. For us, too. But I hope we’ll get there, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George had always, always been close to his parents, especially his mum, and it still felt weird sometimes, not being on talking terms with her. It shattered George to wonder if their relationship would ever be the same as before, and as he thought about it that day, he could hear his own heart breaking into two, and his chest ached like never before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that when you left, you wished that you were strangers with us,” ma continued. “I know that. But I hope...I hope we won’t be. Not anymore.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll – I’ll call. On better days,” George whispered, feeling like his breath was being snatched from him. “Please...please tell dad I love him and I miss him and I’m sorry I’m not the son he wanted.” George pulled away from the hug and wiped his tears, and he suddenly felt like he had to be far away so he wouldn't have a breakdown. “I gotta go, ma. I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take care of yourself, baby. I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George cried and cried, and he walked and walked until he got to Alex’s house and managed to get him to come to his window. Alex could see immediately how wrecked George was, and he was outside in a flash, pulling George into a hug. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” George said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Alex brought him to their old hangout, and they just sat there silently, Alex facing the sea and George facing the meadow, watching the colours that reminded them of their happiness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was strange spending Christmas in a third different church in the same number of years, but George went ahead for Midnight Mass in Charles’s local church, anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And Charles stood next to him for the third year in a row, holding his hand. His parents let George put up a small Christmas tree so he could hang up their matching baubles, and they all bought presents for George and George bought presents for them. And George felt more at home than he’d been since he had come out to his parents.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles could only afford to spend one week at home, for Christmas and the New Year, before he had to be back in the studio. He sat with George for most of the time, even when George was just sitting at the dining table typing on his laptop. On rare times when he wasn’t sitting next to George with his sketchbook and pencil, he would be sitting in the backyard on the large swing, knitting a scarf for his mother.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>On New Year’s day, everyone slept in because of the late night countdown, but when George woke up, Charles was already outside on the swing. George brought him a mug of hot chocolate and sat quietly next to him, watching his hands gently guide the knitting needles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wanna finish this before I go back to uni,” he told George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm,” George mumbled. Charles’s hands were mesmerising. George couldn’t take his eyes off them. “Hey, Charles. I...can I tell you something?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Charles put his knitting aside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Two weeks ago, before I went to find you, I...I went back home.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles stared at him for a while, but George didn’t dare look at him. He waited for Charles to berate him for not telling him, but instead Charles only asked, “Did you see your parents?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed to know. He seemed to know why George hadn’t told him and why he’d gone home despite everything. He seemed to know everything, and George didn’t even have to say a word.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. “Not on purpose. Um, I...I ran into my mum when I went to church.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles listened as George told him all about the counselling and how his mum had asked him about Charles and their matching bracelets. He told him about how he’d promised to call his mum when he was feeling strong enough. He told him about how despite all the hurt he still felt, he really had faith this time that his parents had begun to try for his sake. And Charles held his hand and told him that it was never wrong to have hope, it was never wrong to want to believe in the beauty of the world and the future.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was just…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He knew that no one else would ever be able to instill the same type of hope in him as Charles did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small, steady, undying flame of hope that pushed George forward, day by day, towards something better. Towards finding himself, towards finding happiness.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George had always been a very optimistic person, sometimes way more optimistic than he needed to be – but since he’d met Charles, he’d found out that as much hope as he’d always held, it wasn’t more than Charles held in his big heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles,” he whispered. “Will you sit with me if I...if I wanna call my mum and tell her happy new year?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” There wasn’t a hint of hesitance in Charles’s voice. He squeezed George’s hand. “Yeah. C’mon, I’ll hold your hand. Do you want a kiss? I’ll give you a kiss.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George laughed. He accepted Charles’s loud smooch, then let Charles hold him close as he dialled his mother, suddenly feeling brave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, ma,” he said when the line was picked up. “Um...it’s me. George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George, baby.” Ma sounded so relieved to hear from him. “George. Hi. How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m good.” George shook with the effort not to cry upon hearing her voice, and Charles pulled him in more tightly. “I – I just wanted to say happy new year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mum gave a soft laugh. “Happy new year, George. Where are you spending it?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t really want to tell her he was at Charles’s house. It wasn’t that he thought she already knew, anyway. It was that mentioning Charles to her, putting Charles and his parents in the same context, still hurt George to think about. The way that his parents had once thought about Charles, the way they had spoken to him, still hurt George to think about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m...I’m just with Charles,” he eventually said, deciding he wouldn’t elaborate further. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s nice.” Ma’s voice became softer. “I...help us wish him a happy new year, too, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want to talk to your dad?” she asked. “He’s right here. Let me pass the phone to him.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before George could respond, the phone was being passed, and suddenly there was a deafening silence in George’s ear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, dad,” he offered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George,” his dad said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George swallowed his tears, but couldn’t stop the sob that bubbled out of his lips without clapping a hand over them. “Dad...happy new year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy new year, George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He still spoke to George in that same cold, silently angry tone, and George struggled not to let him hear him cry. “Um, just...you and ma, you take care. Yeah? I...I gotta go. Take care.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George would have almost thrown his phone on the ground if Charles hadn’t gently taken it out of his hand. He curled into Charles’s arms, suddenly just so worn out and embarrassed, a feeling that was beginning to be so familiar to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so proud of you,” Charles whispered, kissing George softly on the crown of his head, his thumbs finding George’s cheeks and wiping the tears off them. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just hate feeling like this,” George sobbed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And yet you always try to pull through it for yourself and your parents,” Charles said. “You’re so strong, George, love, and I’m so proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You...you’re not mad?” George asked. “That I didn’t tell you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles shook his head. “I understand. I’m not pretending it’s okay and I’m not secretly angry or hurt or anything. I just – I get it. I promise.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” George whispered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Silly.” Charles ruffled his hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My mum said to wish you a happy new year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah?” Charles smiled. “That’s nice. I love you so much, Georgie.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m almost done with the scarf, and later we can go for a nice walk in the park, okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George spent the entirety of New Year’s day by Charles’s side, watching him knit and then following him to the park, where they stayed for hours, wandering through all the little winter flowers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And soon, he’d forgotten about everything that had happened that morning; it was a fresh, new year, and George was going to start it being happy, and there was no better place to do that than by Charles’s side.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That year, for George’s birthday, neither of them had the time for anything too big, so they decided to shelve it till the summer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles regretted that he couldn’t even make it out of the studio to visit George the weekend before his birthday. Instead, he was stuck angrily painting a stupid baroque painting and decorating his big handmade ceramic bowl with a piece of his own abstract art. His third different medium would probably be a small cloth embroidery in a 19th century style. For the last two, Charles would probably do more paintings, because that was what he was good and quick at, and honestly, he just wanted to graduate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s birthday was on a Wednesday, and Charles was stuck in the studio until late at night, trying to make use of his burst of motivation for the day to finish his ceramic bowl so he could finally comfortably say he had at least one piece ready for presentation. He had talked to George over the phone over midnight, wishing him a happy birthday and talking to him until he fell asleep, but he hadn’t had time to look at his phone for the entire day since then, and he hoped he’d have time to at least drop George a little text before the day ended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not that he had to bother, anyway, because right around ten pm, when everyone else had already left, there was a knock at the studio door.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George stood on the other side of it, his backpack over one shoulder, his eyes teary and tired.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What’s going on?” Charles whispered as he collapsed into Charles’s arms, crying softly. “Hmm? Hey. Tell me what’s going on.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I spoke to my ma.” George let his backpack fall to the floor with a thump so he could wrap his arms around Charles’s waist. “Since I was a kid, she’d bake a cake for my birthday every year. When I left for uni, the first two years, even that year when we drifted apart and I spent the weekend at the beach house with you, she’d bake the same cake and I’d call her on my birthday and we’d have cake together over the phone. I called her today and she told me that last year, on my birthday, she did the same, but I didn’t call.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She sounded so happy. She was so happy that I’d called her and she told me that she baked a cake again and we could have it together. And I just – I just miss her so much and I hate that I can’t let myself be close to her.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not your fault, George. You’re trying just as hard as they are.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I know that.” George shuddered, his arms tightening around Charles. “I just...my friends had gotten me some cake, and I ate it over the phone with her, and it just. It just felt like we were how we were before. Like...like nothing had changed. And I just keep thinking if we’ll ever be the same again.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s gonna take time. But you will. I believe you will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed. “Thank you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll just count for you for a bit, yeah?” Charles whispered. “Then afterwards, you can tell me if you feel better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George pushed his face into Charles’s shoulder as Charles counted to sixteen for him. But by the end of it, he had stopped shaking, and he gave a sigh as his hands moved up Charles’s back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry for just appearing like that,” he said, his voice still thick. “I should’ve just called. But I just don’t think I can spend the night alone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay. I’ll spend the night with you.” Charles pulled his head away from George’s and wiped his cheeks, and George smiled a little smile at him, and Charles fell in love all over again. “How’d you get here? The train?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. His eyes were so big and blue and Charles lost himself in them for a few moments. “I’ll...uh, I’ll wait for you in your room. Sorry that I bothered you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t bother me.” Charles pulled him further into the studio. “C’mon. You can sit somewhere and do your work while I continue screwing up this stupid bowl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not stupid,” George said as Charles dragged him to one of the art tables and laid out a plastic sheet so George had a clean space for his laptop. “I like it very much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah? Well, if they let me keep it, you can have it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” George said happily. He opened his laptop and started to work, and Charles returned to the sculpting table to paint his bowl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Work seemed to flow more smoothly with George around, although he did nothing but provide soft clacking noises on his keyboard. They worked deep into the night, each in their own space, Charles so adequately soothed by George’s presence that he managed to finish painting the first layer of both the outside and inside of his bowl.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finally turned back around to see what George was up to, he saw George draped over his laptop, fast asleep. One glance at the clock told him it was past three in the morning, but George looked so peaceful sleeping that Charles couldn’t bear to wake him up so they could go back to the dorms.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, he just sat next to George, watching him sleep, trying not to cry at how his heart was bursting in joy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George woke up a few minutes later, though he didn’t sit up, and just pressed his cheek on his arm so he could smile at Charles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And as Charles gazed back at him, he suddenly knew what he was going to do for one of his two remaining paintings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’s it going?” George asked, taking his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I finished the first layer of my bowl,” Charles told him. “Do you wanna see?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George let himself be dragged to where Charles had left his bowl to dry. He examined it closely, then smiled at Charles again. “I love it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, love. Are you tired? We can go back now. It’s late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shook his head. “I’m feeling productive. I just took a power nap,” he said. “Are you tired?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think I can work a bit more. I’ll start drafting out my embroidery pattern on a cloth, then I’ll see if the base of my painting is dry so I can start on the next layer.” Charles squeezed his hand. “Love. I’m sorry I couldn’t spend your birthday with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t be silly,” George said. “I got to see you. That makes me happier than anything else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Happy birthday. It’s over now, but...happy birthday. I wish you’ll always be happy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go back to work, yeah?” George asked. “I like working here while you work. It reminds me of our little art gallery apartment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>feel like they were back in that little storage space. “Yeah, me too.” Charles smiled. “Do you have to go back for lessons?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m done with my classes. I just have to write two essays and do my final presentation.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They made some tea for themselves, then returned to their own spaces, George reopening his laptop and Charles finding the fabric and needles he needed for his embroidery piece. But try as he might, he couldn’t find enough inspiration and motivation to start the piece, although he already had it sketched out on a piece of paper, so he abandoned it and moved on to the second layer of his baroque painting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George had turned on some soft music using the studio’s small stereo, and the sound flooded the empty, echoy space of the art studio all the way up to the high ceilings. It helped Charles to relax, and he lost himself in mixing paint and slowly working on his second layer. The spotlight above him lit up all the dark shades of paint just enough for Charles to tell the differences. The mood was hushed and tranquil, just like the colours Charles was using, and Charles completely lost track of time and his surroundings. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next time he looked away to rest his eyes, he found George standing next to him, peering curiously at his painting. He smiled at Charles when Charles turned around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m just taking a lil’ break,” he said. “This looks nice.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, babe. It’s not done yet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’ll look better when it’s done.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles laughed. The blind faith that George always had in him was so endearing. “I’m taking a break now. Do you wanna go back to my room?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shook his head. He grabbed Charles’s wrist and pulled him to his feet. “C’mere with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He brought Charles to the space between the two rows of big wooden tables, near the front door. He twirled Charles around once, smiling when Charles fell into his arms, giggling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we dancing?” Charles asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded, his smile turning nostalgic and warm. “Will you be my Valentine, Charles?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They seemed to always dance after a particularly emotional day. George seemed to like to do that, as if the sound of the music and the feeling of Charles in his arms was enough to make him forget everything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Charles danced with him, and he took Charles’s paint-crusted hands and he held them tight, and they twirled each other around into the sunrise, held each other as the studio lit up again in its golden light, and laughed until the music was drowned out and their voices became their own song. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When morning finally came, they stood huddled by the sink, giggling like little children as George attempted to scrub Charles’s hands clean. Then he took them again, tightly in his own as they headed out to look for something to eat, and he told Charles, “My birthdays just get better every year.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles didn’t need to ask him if it was true. He didn’t need to ask if George thought this year’s birthday was the best one so far.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just trusted George, just like he had every single day since he was born.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>George’s calls to his parents became easier as the weeks passed. He didn’t call them that often, maybe twice a month or so, and usually when Charles was around to hold his hand, but over time, he dreaded it less. Occasionally, his mum would ask about Charles, like he was just another of George’s friends. George even spoke to his father a few times and managed to hold it together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, George wondered if his father would hate him forever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Trying to be close to his mum again was one story, but his father was an entire other book on his own. George didn’t know if he was just angry or if he hated George. He didn’t know if his father was any closer to accepting him than he had been when George had first left. George’s dad had always been stern with him but he had always loved George and tried to give George everything he needed and wanted. But he had also always been stubborn, and sometimes when George tried to communicate with him it would be as if they were two rocks scraping at each other, close to causing a fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s mother always reminded George she loved him, she was proud of him, and she was grateful he was giving them a chance, even if George was too overwhelmed or proud to accept it verbally or say it back. His father never did that. So George never knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite everything, Charles would always remind him that they were all trying their best, including George’s dad, and even if they weren’t the people that George went to for advice or support anymore, he could still be respectful to them and let them care about him. He reminded George that one day, before they knew it, everything would be okay again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t know how. He didn’t know how it would all iron out, but there was always something in Charles’s voice, a spell or a sprinkle of magic, that made George want to believe him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The days flew by too quickly for George to fathom. Soon, it was Charles’s final game with his football team, and they ended the season second in the varsity league. After that came crunch time for Charles – the deadline to submit his five pieces of art for evaluation. He didn’t need to do a fancy official presentation for them, but he had to briefly explain each piece to the examiners. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He decided to practice it once with George, and it was the first time George saw all five of his pieces together. He knew the baroque painting, he knew the nice abstract bowl, and he had seen some of the embroidery. He’d seen half of the second painting, which was a round canvas 3D painting of the sea in the dark, the full moon in the sky reflecting in its deep blue waters. But the last painting, George had never seen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was George’s favourite painting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The last painting was George’s favourite painting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was an impressionist piece of two boys on a cliffside, overlooking an endless sea. The field was done in impasto, with little wildflowers in white and pink and yellow. The sky was in sunset colours, swirls of orange and coral and purple. The two boys were mere abstract strokes of the brush, but they were hand in hand, dancing on the cliff, their shadows long on the ground. Somehow, the three different regions of the painting blended seamlessly at their edges, the colours so pure opposites yet blurring so well together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This one is called ‘Home’, and it’s inspired by a place that once held so fond and happy memories, but was also the place where everything changed forever. It’s a complicated place, a happy place and a sad place, but a place full of hope. A place that one can wish to have a good relationship with in the future. This place is the past, the present, and the future, and it will always remain, undying, waiting for one to return.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful,” George whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think so?” Charles looked overjoyed, more overjoyed than he seemed to be willing to show in his voice. “Do you...you know where this is?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. The cliff behind Alex’s house. Where George missed so much but couldn’t bring himself to go without breaking down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pulled Charles into a hug. “Thank you. I love it so much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles patted him softly on the back. “You can have it if they let me keep it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>We’ll</span>
  </em>
  <span> have it. In our next apartment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. Promise.” Charles pulled away with another smile on his face. “Do you have any questions?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides the descriptions he had to give, Charles also had to field questions from the examiners, so George tried his best to ask him anything that came to mind. About the styles and inspirations for the art pieces. About the techniques used and the difficulties he came across. About the typical characteristics of each style and how Charles had shown them in each piece. Charles answered each one expertly, and George really, truly was so impressed by the way his mind worked and how passionate he was about what he did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George stuck around for his examination, and he wasn’t allowed into the studio to listen, so he waited outside. Charles came out after the longest forty minutes ever, and he had a gigantic smile on his face and he ran straight into George’s arms, laughing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How’d it go?” George asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was great. They said they liked everything but the grading takes a few weeks. I think I’ll get to graduate at least.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so proud of you,” George whispered. “You did so great. You really did so great. Everything was perfect.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, love.” Charles placed a kiss on George’s cheek. “Thank you for coming here and waiting for me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t rather be anywhere else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was the end of Charles’s university life, then, so they had a nice celebratory dinner with Pierre and Alex, and the next day they hopped on a train to go back to George’s university to prepare for his presentation.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had two weeks till then, and Charles could’ve chosen to be anywhere else, but instead he sat in George’s room, hovering around George as he prepared his posters, presentation slides, and script. Though he didn’t contribute much, he listened to George as George verbalised all his issues so he could solve them one by one. He brought George tea and snacks and he played soothing music for George. And most importantly, he cradled George to sleep at night, and George always had nice dreams.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His school’s presentation slots were spread over a week, and George managed to get one in the late afternoon on the fourth day. It was an open examination, and he had a whole hour to pitch his company and sales ideas and marketing events. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles put him in a light blue shirt, some formal trousers, and then some leather boat shoes because he said that would make George look more approachable and open to new ideas instead of being closed and unadaptable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he sat in the freezing lecture hall with George for almost six hours, listening to other presentations that he didn’t know or care about, just so he could see George present his.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was only through the strength he got from the way Charles was smiling so proudly at him in the middle of the tenth row that George pulled through the presentation and Q&amp;A session. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you think I did alright?” It was when they were lying in bed that evening, earlier than usual because George was exhausted, that George finally brought himself to ask that question. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you did great, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not just saying that because you think it’s what I want to hear?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No. I think you were confident and you were brave, and they all thought your proposal was creative. And when they tried to poke holes in it you defended really well. I saw them nodding at the end.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They were nodding to tell each other they were done, Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They nodded because it was good. I say so.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George laughed. “Okay. If you say so, then it must be right.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Charles said proudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles.” George sighed. “I...I wanna tell my mum about it. Do you think that’s okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles nodded, and he took George’s hand as George dialled home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t talked to his mum in over two months, having been too busy with work to even think of summoning enough energy to call. But she sounded just as happy to hear from him, and George told her all about his presentation and his proposal and she was so proud of him and George almost started crying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What kind of places are you looking to apply for jobs?” she asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m thinking I’ll go back to where I did my internship if they can offer me a short-term contract. You know, like I mentioned,” George said. “I changed my mind. Maybe it’ll work out. At least until I find something else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s very nice, George, baby.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. Charles is applying, too. They might have a space in the creative department, which he’ll like.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” ma said. She sounded a little hesitant to talk about Charles. A bit disappointed, even. “Yeah, that’s...that’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed. Sometimes, he just felt like they weren’t moving forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma, I have to go now, okay?” he said. “I’ll...I’ll talk to you next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait.” Ma’s voice was soft. It was still hesitant. “George...how did Charles do for his honours project? He’s taking his honours, too, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.” George felt his heart suddenly leap in joy. “Yeah. He did five different art pieces, and he says if he gets to keep them, then he’ll give them to me. I have lots of pictures. I’ll send you some.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mum chuckled. “That’s lovely.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And his team finished second in the league this year. I have photos of that, too,” George said. “I’ll send them to you, yeah? And...and will you show them to dad, too? I’m sure he’ll love hearing about football. He loves football.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your dad’s not ready to talk about Charles yet, baby,” ma said softly. “But I’d love to see them.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” George’s heart sank back to its original position. He didn’t know why he always expected so much. He was only disappointed each time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sorry, George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, ma.” George sighed. He knew it was hard for her. She was only trying to be courteous. “If...if you guys really just don’t understand – if you don’t understand who I am and you want to stop trying, then that’s fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re not going to do that. You’re our son. We have to try for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George bit his lip, afraid he would cry. Beside him, Charles fidgeted, sliding their fingers together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma, I’ll go now,” George whispered. “I’ll talk to you soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take care of yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George hung up the phone and placed it on the nightstand. He avoided Charles’s concerned gaze, but Charles eventually grasped his cheek and turned him around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine,” George told him, voice shaking. “I’m fine. It’s just...you know. Everything. But I’m happy. I really am.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too.” George kissed him on the nose, and the worry on his face dissipated. “Charles. Do you think I should ask them to come to my graduation?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course, if you want to,” Charles said. “I won’t go, if you think that’ll be better for everyone.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have to come, Charles. I’m not even gonna go for the ceremony if you aren’t there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles laughed. “Okay. Don’t be so dramatic. I’ll go if there are enough seats.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If there aren’t enough seats, then my dad can’t come. Just you and my ma.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“George, don’t be silly.” The smile was still on Charles’s face as he poked George on his nose. “We’ll figure it out when it comes. Yeah? Now we’ll enjoy our free time and our grad trip and then we’ll try looking for jobs. Okay?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Now, I’m hungry. If you’re tired, I’ll just order a pizza and finish it all by myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want pizza, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They squabbled over which pizza place to order from, then squabbled over the toppings. When the pizza came, Charles gave George all his crusts, and George pretended he didn’t like the pepperoni so he could give some of it to Charles, because he liked it. Then they squabbled over who was going to bring the pizza box to the bin until George pointed out they could just both take it on the way to brush their teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a noisy night; a noisy night full of laughter and little playful arguments and lazy kissing. And George enjoyed every little moment of it, even knowing that they had plenty more of it in the future. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Looking back at where he’d been two years ago, George never would’ve imagined that he would be exactly where he was, there with Charles, about to graduate from university and finally start properly earning his own money.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But there he was, whether by a miracle of God or through sheer willpower. Or both.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It didn’t matter, because just like Charles always said, it was only going to get better – and this time, George knew it was going to come true.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their grad trip was just the four of them – Charles, George, Pierre, and Alex – and a camper van, taking another roadtrip, this time across the Channel in France. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both Charles and Pierre had family in the northern parts, and they paid short visits to them on the way. Neither George nor Alex spoke French, and while Alex was learning it, George simply didn’t understand a word, and usually just sat quietly, perplexed as Charles’s aunties piled food on his plate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He seemed more relieved when they were on the road; when he wasn’t driving, he frequently liked to sit at the back doors and look out at the road they’d just passed. Charles would sit with him, and he wouldn’t say a word but he would take Charles’s hand and kiss it and he would smile at Charles and that would be enough for Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They did so many things on the trip – they went shopping in the city and hiking in the wilderness, and they bathed in little rivers and streams and swam in the sea. They were forced to watch Pierre and Alex flirt with each other every day in the backseat. At night, they would all huddle and sleep in the back of the van, and in the morning they would wake up to the most spectacular sunrise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George liked to push a drawing block and a brush into Charles’s hand to urge him to paint the view. He loved the long winding roads, through the green forests on both sides and the blue sky above them. He seemed to particularly enjoy the nights they stopped off-road, in little muddy paths wedged within forests. He liked opening the back door and looking up at the sky, and sometimes Alex would join him, and Charles knew that George was only relieved to be able to hang out with his friends again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Besides, Charles was glad that George had Alex to babble to about the stars and the trees and any other topic he could think of, because as much as he loved that boy, Charles was close to having his ear chewed off by him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just like in Amsterdam, Charles dreaded going back home – not because he thought they wouldn’t get to do this again, but because he wasn’t too excited to face normal life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d both been promised interviews at the place George had done his internship, but George having worked there and knowing everyone didn’t necessarily mean they were both guaranteed places. So they decided to just take it as it came, and focus on getting graduated first.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had done pretty well for his final project, so not only was he able to graduate with honours, he was also praised by his advisor and some of his works were used as examples for younger students. His graduation ceremony was a week before George’s, and George was there for it, having already quit his coffee shop job and moved all his things out of his dorm to move in with Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a nice outdoor setup just outside the art building, with chairs in rows and a little makeshift stage that Charles hoped he wouldn’t fall off of. Charles woke up bright and early because his parents came over to his dorm and they wanted to take a thousand photos before they left for the venue.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George stood aside as Charles’s parents fussed over him. He didn’t seem to want to insert himself too much into what he’d deemed to be a family affair. He just watched, and he helped Charles hold his cap and his sash until he was ready to put them on, and he adjusted Charles’s hair and the shoulders of his robe, but that was all he allowed himself to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just before he was going to find his place in line, Charles pulled George aside. “You can sit with my parents,” he told George. “I asked Arthur and he said he’ll be okay standing at the back with Pierre and Alex. You can sit with Lorenzo and my papa and maman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George shook his head. “It’s fine. I’ll stand at the back. It’s a family thing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re family. C’mon, it’s cool.” Charles tugged at George’s arm. “They’ll all be around to take photos later, anyway. I just want you to be there in front with my parents.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sighed. “Okay. If you’re sure everyone’s okay with that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George kissed him loudly on the mouth. “I love you so much. I’m so proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, love. How do I look?” Charles twirled once for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very handsome.” George caught him by the shoulders and kissed him again. “Go line up. Try not to trip on stage.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up.” Charles flicked him on the forehead, then ran away giggling.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When it was his turn to go on stage, he looked into the crowd and saw George smiling proudly up at him, bursting into a grin when Charles’s eyes met his. He blew a kiss at Charles, and Charles pretended to catch it, aware that he was being embarrassing on stage but at the same time not caring.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He survived the outing without tripping over his own feet, and George wrapped him up, flowing robe and all, in a hug once Charles left the horde of students and ran towards his family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look so beautiful,” he whispered. “Your robe, the dark red sash, it makes your eyes pop.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles giggled. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a nice day, sunny but not too warm, and they spent the rest of the afternoon just enjoying the little buffet and taking more photos. Charles’s football team came by to congratulate him, and so did Alex and Pierre, and all his friends from art school, and Charles barely had any time for himself as he was pulled away by group after group – but George held his hand throughout, and he held the little soft toys and flowers and everything else that Charles’s friends tried to give him, and he followed Charles everywhere he went despite Charles barely having a second to talk to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had entrusted his phone to Alex, whom he trusted to take nicer photos than anyone else. While at dinner with his family and George, with his head cradled in George’s shoulder and occasionally being jostled around as George told an animated story to Charles’s parents, Charles looked through the photos Alex had taken. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were countless ones, posed and candid, of Charles alone or with his friends and family, but there was one that stood out, one that Charles knew would always be his favourite of his graduation day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles had the bottom of his robe bunched up in one hand and one foot forward towards the camera as he flailed his other hand to demand Alex to do something he now couldn’t remember. George had Charles’s graduation cap on his head, and he was holding it on with one hand. His other arm was draped over Charles’s shoulders, his hand on Charles’s cheek as he tried to calm Charles down like he was a rabid puppy. He had this look on his face that was a mixture of bewilderment and amusement, and his mouth was open like he’d been in the midst of telling Charles to chill out; in contrast, Charles was laughing at the camera, as if Alex was just doing something silly that had set him off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It just described George and Charles so perfectly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sometimes switched roles, but there was always one of them, there was always the crazy one, the clingy one, the one with hundreds of ideas and the constant need to be working on any one of them. And there was always the other one who was there to hold him through the mess. The calm one. The one who picked up the pieces. Sometimes it was George. Sometimes it was Charles. But there was always, always one of each. It was what made their relationship so beautiful and special.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like this one,” Charles said, holding the phone towards George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George looked down at it, and he had like, five chins, and he looked so silly but so adorable. He smiled at Charles, and more of his chins popped out. “I love it,” he said. “It’s very on brand of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I had such a fun day, George.” Charles genuinely thought that the only day that could possibly be better than this day would be his wedding day with George.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Me, too. Happy graduation, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was wearing a light pink shirt with little x’s all over it, and it complimented his eyes, and when he smiled it felt like Charles was at the beach and the waves were hitting the shore at his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You look beautiful,” he whispered. “I love you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, too. I’m so proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Charles sat there at the table with the people he knew loved him more than anyone else in the world, he couldn’t help but feel so silly for dreading normal life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If the start of normal life was like this, if for every day of his normal life Charles could be held by George like this – then Charles knew he could only look forward to better days. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was in the middle of Alex’s graduation ceremony, when he went up on stage with a blue sash, that Charles turned to George and said, “I hope your sash is blue so it matches your eyes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A few days later, when they received George’s graduation robe – George’s sash was blue. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George was convinced Charles had some sort of magic in his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even on the day of the ceremony, George wasn’t sure if his parents were going to turn up. His school was smaller than Charles’s, and he only had three reserved seats. He had called them and told them about it, and his mum had said that they would see if his dad could make it, but George hadn’t heard anything since then.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles paid no attention to it, and went ahead with getting George ready for the day. He put George in a smart white shirt he’d specially gotten for George, and he took lots of photos of George as if he wanted to save them for George’s parents, even though he didn’t say it aloud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your sash is blue,” he noted, a gleam in his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. Does it make me look pretty?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles laughed. “Yeah. You look very pretty.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty enough for a kiss?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a teeny one.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their little teeny kiss turned into a slow, long one, huddled in the corner of the ceremony area that wasn’t too unlike the one Charles had his ceremony in. It wasn’t until Alex came over and very politely tapped George on the shoulder while Pierre whistled that Charles pulled away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mm,” he murmured. “Okay. Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You three go sit down, okay?” George told them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When your parents come, we’ll give them our seats,” Alex said. “And Benjy, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think they’ll come,” George said. He really didn’t want to think about it any more. He didn’t want this feeling to taint his big day. “It’s fine. Just sit down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey.” Charles said softly as Pierre and Alex headed off in front of them. “I love you. Yeah? I’m so, so proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled. Nothing else really mattered. “Thank you, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll see you later, yeah?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Love you.” George kissed him on the nose.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles fussed over his robe for a few more moments, and the angle of his cap on his head, then he was bounding after Pierre and Alex towards the seats.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a while until it was George’s turn to get on stage, and when he looked out into the seating area to look for his friends and his Charles – </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only saw Charles. He didn’t see Pierre, he didn’t see Alex.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He only saw Charles, sitting next to George’s dad and ma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles was smiling </span>
  <em>
    <span>so big</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it looked like his cheeks were about to explode. Dad and ma were smiling smaller, but equally proud smiles. Charles jabbed a discreet finger at them, as if he was trying to tell George, </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Look! They’re here!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>George just wanted to run down there and grab him and kiss his dimples.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he focused on getting one foot in front of the other and stepping off stage without falling, and he sat through the rest of the graduates, bouncing his leg impatiently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment he was allowed to, George burst out of the crowd and towards where the three of them were, and he hugged the first person he could reach, who turned out to be his ma.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ma,” he whispered, trying his best not to cry. “Ma. Thank you for coming.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so proud of you, George,” she said. “So, so proud. Sorry we were late.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s alright.” Charles was drifting further and further away, like he wanted to leave George alone with his parents. George grabbed his hand and pulled him back. “Hey, dad,” he greeted his father, half afraid of his reaction. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi, George,” he said. “Congratulations.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Benjy and Cara are in the back,” ma said. She was wearing the tulip earrings George had given her, and George wanted to cry. “We, uh...we told Charles to sit with us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s nice. Thank you.” George gave Charles’s hand a squeeze, and Charles moved his other hand over it, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you want me to help you take some photos?” he asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They found Benjy and Cara, and Charles helped them take hundreds of photos on George’s phone while Pierre and Alex hovered over his shoulder. Then George was pulled away by his friends, and Charles was dragged along, meeting everyone again and trying to take nice photos of them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s mum had a plate of food from the buffet ready for George when he finally found his way back to them again. He stood munching happily as Charles wiped the sweat off his forehead and fanned him with a piece of paper so he wouldn’t start sweating again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s nice to see you again, Charles.” It was the first time George had heard his ma addressing Charles directly since...well, since Easter the previous year. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles seemed equally surprised by it, although he must’ve spoken to her earlier at the seats. “I’m – I’m glad to see you guys, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you for taking care of our George.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles beamed. “He takes care of himself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll help you two take some photos,” ma said, gesturing for Charles to pass her George’s phone. “C’mon, George, baby, put that dirty plate aside.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George dumped the paper plate in the bin and cleaned his hands on his robe, much to Charles’s disgust. He wiped George’s hands clean with a wet napkin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They posed for some photos together, for both George’s mum and Alex, who was standing at the side with his phone up proudly as if it was his own child graduating. Then everyone else got distracted again, so George wrapped Charles up in a hug, burying him in his robe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” he cooed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles giggled. It was completely muffled by George’s robe. “I’m so proud of you, love.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so happy ma and dad are here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I’m so happy, too.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t go away, okay? Stay with us. I like that ma talks to you now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. Yeah. Did you see she’s wearing the earrings?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George laughed. “Yeah. It was the first thing I saw. Dad’s a bit quiet, though.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Charles could respond, there was someone tapping on George’s shoulder again. George turned around, and it was Pierre.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have you seen – oh, he’s here,” Pierre said as Charles emerged from under George’s robe. “Charles. Alex and I are gonna scoot. He’s got a list of food places in the city that he wants to try. Are you coming with us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll just go talk to George’s parents for a bit.” Charles’s hair was all messed up from being buried under all that fabric, and he looked warm and adorable. “Maybe say bye, or something.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George parents were just waiting by the side, watching them quietly. George’s mum smiled when the two of them came back, and she said, “George, let’s go out for a nice big dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was quiet for a while, a discreet awkwardness settling over them, when George’s dad cleared his throat. “Charles, would you like to join us for dinner?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was an olive branch that George accepted with both hands. “Okay,” he said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad was talking to Charles, Georgie.” The way George’s mum spoke was teasing, and she had a little smile on her face, like they were all in cahoots. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s up to you, love,” George whispered to Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’d love to come,” Charles said softly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s dad cleared his throat again, then tilted his head towards the exit. “We’ll wait at the car,” he said, and he started walking, with ma tailing closely. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George and Charles said bye to Pierre and Alex for the day, and Charles helped George change out of his robe and pack everything up nicely. They got into the back of George’s parents’ car, with Cara hitching a ride with Benjy. It was quiet after George suggested a nice restaurant they could go to and dad keyed it into his GPS, and not even ma was talking, which honestly scared George a little bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You don’t have to join us if you feel uncomfortable,” George told Charles, softly so his parents wouldn’t hear.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles shook his head. “I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just don’t – if they’re mean to you again, we’re not gonna sit through it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think they’re gonna be mean to me.” Charles smiled. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How do you know that? Dad’s been so quiet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s angry with me for taking away his son. I get that,” Charles said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You didn’t take away his son. He needs to realise that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s on his way, love. I know he’s on his way. Give him some time to get there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why do you always have so much faith in everything?” George asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles kissed the back of his hand, then placed it back at his side. “For you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George pressed a kiss to his temple. It really was the happiest day of his life, and George hadn’t even had time to soak it in. His graduation. Seeing his parents again after so long. Them talking to Charles and asking Charles to join them for dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was everything George had been wishing for since he’d met Charles, even if he hadn’t known it yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t cry,” Charles whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t even realise he was crying. He gave a little gurgle as Charles wiped his tears. “I’m just happy,” he told Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know.” Charles looked so beautiful when he smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dinner was a quiet affair, though Benjy did seem particularly excited to see George again. It was understandable, given everything that had happened and how Benjy had to be the middleman so many times. They all exchanged stories, both serious and funny, and the awkwardness soon dissolved in laughter and excited chattering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s father barely said five words, but George could tell he was listening. A little smile hooked on his lips when he heard George mention how his advisor thought his final proposal was impressive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Towards the end of the dinner, he even joined in the conversation when they were talking about Charles’s football league, asking details so specific that George knew he must have had been following the varsity league and been too proud to admit it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was trying. He really was trying this time. It was just taking him a little longer.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sometimes, George hated how Charles was always right. He hated it, but at the same time Charles’s confidence and hopefulness was the best thing to have by George’s side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George took the flowing conversation around him as an opportunity to bask in the night, leaning back in his seat and watching Charles talk to his parents with a gleam in his eye. Part of George still thought that they were going to snap at him, so he was on guard. But part of him just wanted to enjoy the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took out his phone and saw that Alex had sent him a handful of photos from earlier that day. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&lt; Just a few of my favourite ones.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>George couldn’t help the smile on his face as he scrolled through them. They were mostly just candids of Charles fussing over George, over his hands and his robe and his face and his hair, and George knew Alex had only sent them to him to tease him. He frequently did, saying that even though Charles had known him for far shorter than Alex had known him, he paid more attention to George than Alex had ever, and that must have been why George loved him so much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But it wasn’t true. They all knew it wasn’t true, and Alex was just poking fun. If the tables had been turned and it had been Charles fighting for this relationship, George knew he would still love Charles with his entire heart, and he would still stick by Charles until they got through it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was just what God had meant it to be. He had meant for them to be soulmates.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George continued scrolling through the album. Throughout all the photos, George had the same infatuated look on his face as he watched Charles try his best to tame him. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>&gt; I look disgusting.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Alex didn’t reply, but George could imagine him rolling his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His favourite photo of the current bunch was that one of him hugging Charles and burying him entirely under his robe. Only Charles’s calves and feet were visible, the rest of him almost completely covered by George. The only other part George could actually see was one of his eyes, peeking out from under George’s hand, scrunched up in pure happiness as George squeezed him and kissed him on the head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He pushed his phone towards Charles when there was a break in the conversation, to show him that photo. He took Charles’s wrist and held the bracelet charm with the moon and the wave.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The sea loves the moon very much, too,” he whispered. “That’s why it’s always letting itself be close.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled up at him, a soft smile that felt just like moonlight. This time, George could kiss his dimples. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not more than I love you,” Charles said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George...never really could outargue Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he sat there with his own personal moon, quiet and loving and undying, watching him try to put together the pieces of the last three years. Grounding and guiding the raging, passionate waters that were George, like he had since the first day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George sat and let himself be loved by his moon.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The city was a nice place in the early morning, before everyone awoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In their new two-bedroom rental, the bedroom window faced the sunrise, so every morning, George would wake up to slivers of gold lighting up Charles’s peaceful sleeping face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He would sit up in bed, and the first thing he would see was Charles’s impressionist painting of the meadow, hanging on the wall across from the bed in their new rented apartment. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It always made him smile that the first thing that greeted him each morning was a painting Charles had been inspired by him to make. He would sit and stare at it for a few minutes until Charles woke up and hugged him from behind and gave him a loud sleepy smooch, and it would be the best start to any day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George loved whenever Charles made that greasy, guilt-inducing French toast for breakfast. Charles, on the other hand, loved George’s blueberry pancakes. Sometimes, when neither of them could convince the other, they would end up side by side at the stove, cooking each other’s favourite breakfast. Whatever it was, George cherished every morning, even if they overslept and all they could afford to do was share some hastily made cereal out of that abstract bowl Charles had painted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then they would go to work together at that familiar big firm, Charles in the creative department on the 19th floor and George back with his loving colleagues on the 26th. They didn’t interact much professionally, so no one seemed to mind that they were soulmates. No one seemed to mind that they spent every free minute they had together, either, so they were inseparable at lunch.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George would wait for Charles whenever he ended late rushing for deadlines, but he didn’t mind, because he loved when they walked back home hand in hand, through the sleeping city. It was quiet and dark and their footsteps echoed off the concrete, and it felt so peaceful, just the two of them strolling along streets that would be packed full of people at other times of the day.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although Charles was sometimes too tired to function after work, he loved making dinner, so George helped him. He tasted every weird recipe that Charles insisted on trying out. He loved the regular things just as much as the strange new ones, as long as it was Charles making it for him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Pierre worked with the local football team as their sports physiologist, and Alex had taken up a research job while he looked for opportunities to further his studies, so they stuck around. Sometimes, they dropped by for sleepovers and occupied George and Charles’s pull-out couch, and they would all have a movie night gathered around the TV, and George would think about how much they had all been through together just for a night like that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The week between Christmas and New Year’s always felt like a weird liminal state.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They’d had a nice Christmas dinner with Alex and Pierre, put up the first Christmas tree they officially owned with the same pair of forever baubles, gone for Midnight Mass, and exchanged presents, but after that, the week seemed to pass in a blur, and before George knew it, it was the morning of New Year’s Eve. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you nervous?” Charles asked as the bus they were on approached the train station. “About going home?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George didn’t think he would ever stop being nervous about going home.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Things were okay now, and he spoke to both his parents over the phone occasionally – but somehow, the thought of going home always filled George with a sense of dread. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The thought of that bedroom he used to hide in to secretly text Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The living room, where his parents had first learnt about Charles, and where they had told George he was going to have to get married to someone who wasn’t Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The backyard, which was the only place in the house George felt like he could breathe in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The park he went to with Andy where they talked about their lives and how they were going to escape.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The meadow, which reminded him of all the dreams he used to have and how they had all been crushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The church where he had begun to find himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The restaurant where George and his parents had had that massive fight about Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the paths he had wandered, tired and angry and sad, when he had left home with all his belongings.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That little train station where he’d spent the night.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every thought about home was like a new stab to George’s heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t think this feeling will ever go away,” he told Charles. “But I won’t worry. I feel stronger with you around.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles smiled. “I’m so proud of you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m proud of you, too. It’s not easy for you to go back.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Over time, George had begun to realise that most times, Charles really wasn’t hiding anything when he said ‘it’s okay’. He simply was this pure and this innocent and he took everything as it came. Sure, sometimes he tried too hard not to hurt George’s feelings, but most times, he wasn’t only saying it so George wouldn’t feel guilty about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He just didn’t know how to feel anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was simply...so accepting of everything that came his way that he automatically tried to navigate it on his own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was the strongest person George had ever met, and he wasn’t even trying to be. He just </span>
  <em>
    <span>was.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Home seemed a warmer place than George remembered. The Christmas tree was still up, despite it being New Year’s Eve. Ma had hot chocolate and cookies ready for them when they arrived, and dad was outside gardening. Benjy and Cara were upstairs, playing an intense game of Battleship. Everything seemed normal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>George brought Charles upstairs to his old bedroom, expecting a sense of doom to befall him as he stepped inside.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Instead, all he felt was...nothing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat down with Charles, holding his hand, and it just felt surreal. It had never been allowed before in this space.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You okay?” Charles asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George nodded. “I just expected to feel...more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fine,” Charles whispered. “You’re healing. It just means you’re healing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, George didn’t know what else to do except to believe him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe I should go hang out with my dad in the garden.” George only spoke a few words to his dad whenever he called home, but he knew that his dad was trying, and it was hard for him to show his emotions sometimes, so George had to put in effort on his part, too. “Do you think that’s alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mhm. Yeah.” Charles pressed a lingering kiss to George’s lips, and George was suddenly so energized. “I’ll go bother Benjy and Cara.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George went outside and found his father trimming the hedge despite the chilly weather. He stood quietly for a while before his father noticed him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um...can I help?” George asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father gestured wordlessly to the spare pair of clippers. George picked them up and started working on the other side of the hedge until he got closer to his dad.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you doing repaying those study loans?” dad asked once they were close enough.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s going okay so far. I’m paying monthly so it’s a bit more affordable.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad gave a quick nod. “And...if you need help with it, you know that you can ask me and your mum, right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, dad, but I want to pay them off myself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad put the clippers down and picked up the garden hose. George scooted out of the way as he sprayed down the stray leaves on the hedge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And how is Charles?” he asked, softly, and George almost thought that he was deliberately using the sound of the hose to cover his voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Charles is good. He works late sometimes but he’s loving the job.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s great.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dad,” George said softly, afraid he would cry. “Thank you. For...for trying. With Charles.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A short silence as dad hosed down the hedge.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I believe that God gave Charles to you for a reason,” he finally said. “So...go and chase that reason. I’m sorry that I tried to stop you before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George smiled. “It’s okay, dad. I didn’t understand it before, either.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sometimes, I still don’t understand it, you know?” dad said. “I’m trying my best, George. It’s...it’s hard for me to show you sometimes. But you’ve always been my son and I’m proud of you for trying to stand up for yourself. I know now that you had a reason to. And I’m proud of you. I know that you tried to understand us and we didn’t pay it back.  I just...just give me some more time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you’re trying, dad. Don’t worry about it,” George whispered. “I’m just – I’m so grateful that you’re trying. It means a lot to me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad smiled, and clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m happy that you found someone who makes you happy, George. I guess...it doesn’t matter so much whether it’s a boy or a girl.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” George started crying then, and he had no idea how to stop himself. “Dad. At one point I was sure I would never be able to get through to you. So I...it just means so much to me. So much.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His dad pulled him into a hug then, quietly but firmly. “I know I can be stubborn at times. That’s why I raised a stubborn son like you,” he said. “I know I’m not there yet, but I promise I’ll be.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you. Dad, just...thank you.”</span>
</p><p><span>“I’m sorry, George. I never said this to you and I should. I’m sorry that...everything happened the way it did. I’m sorry that I made you choose between us and Charles, and that I said he took you away from us. It was us who let it become that way. He wouldn’t have taken you away from us</span> <span>if we hadn’t forced him to.”</span></p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay,” George said. “I’m sorry, too. That I...that I behaved the way I did. I just felt...felt like I was driven to do it. You just pushed me too far.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dad pulled away from the hug to nod at him. “Okay. I understand that. I know it’s hard for you to let us back in your life again, and when your mum told me about your talk at church, I didn’t believe it. But the counselling sessions started to have more meaning once you started letting us back in your life.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s nice. I mean, we got this far, right? It’s looking better. We took some time, but it’s looking better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George’s father beamed at him, and it made George want to cry again, how proud he looked. “Let’s go inside. I bet your ma’s cooked a great dinner.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>a great dinner, and the table was lively with conversation. Charles was quiet at first, but started shyly joining in, and a few minutes later his loud breathless laughter was the loudest melody at the table.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After dinner, over some delicious strawberry pie, ma brought out a little blue velvet box and placed it in Charles’s hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We got you two a gift. It’s both a graduation gift and a Christmas present, we think,” she said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Charles opened it, and inside were two identical bracelet charms, each with a dark blue graduation cap engraved on it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s beautiful,” Charles said, but even his voice was shaking, like he was about to cry. “Thank you, Mrs Russell.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ma ruffled his hair fondly, and watched the two of them put the charms on. She smiled when they grinned at each other, the excited child in them reigniting with just this tiny gift.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, ma,” George said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ma ruffled his hair next, and shooed them to the couch, where everyone else was gathered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was when George was seated there, in the middle of everyone, that the day began to sink in on him. He turned the bracelet under the light, and it bounced off the blue graduation cap.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beside him, Charles fidgeted, but only to tuck himself under George’s arm. George pressed his lips on the top of his head, and left them there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Across from him, his mum was smiling at him, and his father was refilling Charles’s wine glass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George could see now for sure that his parents were trying, so it was only right that George also tried to fully let them back in his life. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was suddenly...filled with so much hope that maybe, just maybe, his relationship with his parents could return to the way it was before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would take some time, and there were going to be bumps, but George decided to savour the surge of hope within him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After all, some people had to wait for years, and forgiveness and understanding never came. Compared to them, George really had to count himself lucky.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So he sat on the couch, cuddled up with Charles for all to see, and he played board games with his family and they all ganged up against Benjy and it was the most laughter George had heard from his family in years.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They sat there until midnight, and they counted down together, and when the clock struck twelve, Charles placed a long kiss on George’s lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you so much,” he said.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>George gave him another kiss, and he tasted like wine and strawberry pastries and he tasted the same way he did the first time George had kissed him up on that ferris wheel. Like the love of George’s life.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was funny to think how far they had gotten since then, but one thing hadn’t changed since day one – George knew there wasn’t anything or anyone in the world he would ever trade for Charles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” he said, and when Charles smiled, he looked like an angel.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Maybe this is the start of our eternity,” he whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every time it was a day like this, an amazing day, George and Charles would always refer to it as the beginning of their eternity.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the past two and half years, there had been so many of these days. So many starts of George and Charles’s eternity together. So many times they had looked at each other and said, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>this is the beginning of our eternity.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” George often thought about which beginning was the real one, and which ones were just false starts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But that day, as he sat in his childhood home with his family, holding Charles’s hand proudly and without any guilt, George realised – </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t just one eternity. It was many, many eternities.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And George was going to spend every single one with Charles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>